


Against All Odds

by Topographical_Map_Of_Utah



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Stormpilot - Fandom
Genre: AU, Finn Needs A Hug, Fluff, Historical AU, Kid BB-8, Korean War, M/M, Rotating POV, Single Dad Poe, Slice of Life, Smut, Stormpilot, World War II, chubby!poe, domestic AU, so much drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-06-07 19:02:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 66,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6820369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Topographical_Map_Of_Utah/pseuds/Topographical_Map_Of_Utah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's easy making friends in a war, but keeping them is a different story. Doesn’t mean Poe’s not willing to try. After all, what’s the worst that could happen?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. France, 1944

Some days look like they belong on a postcard, like they could convince anyone to drop whatever it is they're doing and run to wherever it may be. Today was one of those days. Blue sky, green fields, white sun offset by a gentle breeze, Poe lived for days like this, loved them like they were his own child.

Well, he usually loved them. Today proved to be an exception to the rule.

He squinted at the horizon, the wrenching pain in his legs begging for his attention as he fiddled with the buckles on his parachute, giving himself a rundown of the past few minutes as the candy floss clouds drifted overhead.

That had been quite the dogfight, him and his wingman against three Shrikes. Snap had gotten out, thank God. Poe had seen him flying off as his downward spiral turned critical. As it turns out, taking a shot for someone else had been a pretty bad idea.

Triplet plumes of smoke were winding up into the air a couple miles out, rising from the wreckage of three fighters, one of them Poe’s. Considering his trajectory it was probably the one smouldering in that poor farmer’s wheat field. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be allowed to stay the night there. Not like he would have been able to coerce the guy anyway; he didn't speak a lick of french. But where was the third plane he’d shot down?

He got his answer about a minute later. The earth trembled as the Fw 190 struck the ground, maybe a quarter mile away. It sent up a shower of dirt and grass along with steaming shards of melting metal. Good thing Poe was out of range.

Once the dust settled he squinted at the burning rubble, waiting for any movement, any sign of life. Nothing, another captain gone down with his ship. Poe sighed and sent a little two-fingered salute over to the downed aircraft. Whoever had been piloting must've had promise. It wasn't easy to stay in the air for that long after being struck in the wing.

When he finally figured out how to untether himself he let the parachute float away a few feet, watching it inhale and exhale as he patted absently at his pockets. Something was missing, he realized, something important. He pulled off his jacket and rummaged around, coming away with a deck of cards, a melting candy bar, a couple crumpled letters, and a dog-eared photograph. But the teddy bear his daughter had given him was nowhere in sight.

The worn material of the jacket was suddenly too heavy in his hands. He let it drop to his lap, his bottom lip trembling ever so slightly. It was stupid, but losing that bear all but broke his heart. Now what did he have to hold onto? That had been the last thing anchoring him to home, to safety.  
  
That's why Poe slept with it on his pillow, glass eyes smooth against his cheek and thinning fur tickling his nose. Although it was drenched in the musk of fire and fuel and sweat, it still carried with it that three room flat in Brooklyn, lemon soap, warm milk, candle wax burning down in a saucer on the mantlepiece. It made it easier to recall the clutch of dimpled arms around his neck, the lisping voice telling him to come home.

And he was determined to get home. No way in hell was he leaving his little girl to grow up without a father and mother both. If the universe would just cooperate with him, that would be swell.

As he was getting up he heard a snap from the forest behind him, too heavy to be a deer or hare. Without thinking he grabbed his pistol from its holster and fired blind into the woods, hoping to scare off whatever animal had snuck up on him. But when he looked there was nothing, not even a rustling leaf.

He stayed frozen for a second, wondering if it was his imagination. Then he felt the warm slide of a rifle on the back of his head and realized he was very much not imagining things.

“Turn around.” an accented voice ordered. German, of course, because apparently God was out to get him. Poe sighed and obliged, dropping his gun as he did. He found himself face to face with a young man, couldn't be more than twenty. But those eyes were as steely as the officers who had been in more battles than Poe had fingers.

Poe gulped and put his hands on his head. What a way to go, killed by a kid on patrol. Frankly, this was unacceptable. There had to be a way out. Something nagged at the back of his mind, something he'd overheard in the mess hall. Wasn’t there a code between Allied soldiers? Weird passwords to let them know who was fighting for what? On the off chance that this guy was on his side (and Poe prayed he was) he might actually manage to live another day. Now it was just a question of remembering one of the codes…

“The moon that lingered over London town.” he blurted out. For a tense second, Poe held his breath, watching his captor's face. He could feel his heart thudding in his throat, his pulse pounding in his fingertips. Honest to God, even if the guy didn't kill him Poe was bound to drop from cardiac arrest. But right when he imagined the taste of blood in the back of his throat the man lowered his gun. Not only that, but a smile split his face like a melon.

“Poor puzzled moon he wore a frown.” he completed the lyrics, with what sounded like a homegrown American accent. Now that was a relief. Poe exhaled and slumped over, landing back on the ground with a thud.

"Sorry. I need a minute," he muttered. That made the guy laugh. "Can't believe I remembered the countersign..."

“They changed it yesterday, but I think I can let it slide. You’re one lucky son of a bitch, flyboy.” The rough words were balanced out by the downright cheerful tone and the glint of his teeth, stark white against his coffee bean skin. “Anyone still in the air?”

“Nope.” Poe caught himself staring at the soldier’s lips and he cleared his throat, trying for a grin. “Boy, what’re the odds that the first enemy I run into turns out to be one of ours?”

“Incredibly low. Like I said before, you’re one lucky son of a bitch. Sorry about the gun, by the way, but you did shoot first. Figured you were a Fritz.” The guy shouldered his weapon and threw a glance around the clearing, looking for the path he'd strayed from. “I’m on my way back to base, by the way. If you’ve got anything worthwhile on you I might let you tag along.”

Poe shrugged, putting on his most wheedling smile. “Sorry buddy. All I’ve got going for me is my pretty face and a chocolate bar. I’ll split it if you want.”

“That’ll do. It’s a bit of a trek, just warning you.” Poe extended his hand and his new friend hoisted him to his feet, playfully brushing off his soot-stained jacket.

“I could do with the cardio. Code names?”

“For now, that’s probably best. I’m Trooper. You?”

“I guess we’ll stick with Flyboy.” They shook hands, Poe taking a second to wipe the engine grease off on his trousers. “So that’s settled. Lead the way, Trooper.” He smacked him between the shoulder blades, grinning. "If you get us lost I'll kill you."

"Oh, please. Your flabby ass couldn't beat me at a game of tic tac toe." 

That got the both of them laughing, safe in the knowledge that this was all just fun, that they'd take turns being the butt of the joke. Further down the path Poe would retaliate with a comment on Trooper's questionable German accent, and in turn he'd be treated to a reenactment of the time he'd collapsed on the ground like a dame in a faint. And all this would be punctuated with easy, familiar laughter.

Yes, you make friends quick in a war. But you sort of have to, the mortality rate being what it is.

 

\- ————————— -

 

 It was dusk when Trooper decided they should set up camp, and that was only because the terrain was becoming a bit too treacherous for his liking. So many cliffs. They had nearly died twice.

Now that they were in no immediate danger Poe was sitting with a tin can balancing on one knee and a pad of paper settled on the other, chewing his pencil as he looked over the letter he had just scribbled out. Trooper was beside him, glancing at the words written in a language he didn’t know, the sprawling script that ran like water over the page.

“Who’s the behaviour report going out to?” he asked. Poe rolled his eyes as he dug through the pack sitting between the two of them, trying to find a pocket knife.

“Get your head out of the gutter. I’m writing to my kid. She’s all I got, and vice versa, so I’m pretty anxious to get back.”

“No wife?”

“Nothing but a bad, drink-addled decision. What about you? Why do you have to get home?” Trooper shrugged, picking at the grass poking through the dusty ground. Poe let him think. They had all the time in the world, after all.

“I gotta get home so I can get away from home, if that makes any sense.” Trooper said finally. He dragged his cracked fingernails across the dirt and refilled the grooves he’d created. “It doesn't, does it?”

“No, no, I get it.” Poe finally got ahold of the knife. He stabbed a hole in the can and took a sip, grimacing at the taste. Expired or not, evaporated milk was the sticks. "Let me guess, parents?"

"Nope. Lack thereof. Left in a tire on the side of the road the week after I was born. Joined up two years ago, before I could be booted out of the orphanage."

“Rough,” Poe commented. ”So what's the plan when you get back?"

"When I get back? I don't really know."

"No one really does." Poe assured him. Trooper rolled his eyes and punched Poe in the arm. “But you’ll make it out alright, or your name’s not…” Poe looked up with a sly smirk on his face. “What is your name, anyway? It can’t be that confidential, can it?” Trooper blew out his cheeks in a childish display of obstinacy. "C'mon, buddy. Tell you mine if you tell me yours."

 _Finn_. he wanted to say. _My_ _name’s_ _Finn_. Instead, he snorted and readjusted his tunic, picking at one of the stray threads on his sleeve.

"Thanks for the wisdom, old man. And don’t test your luck.” Finn closed his eyes and rested against the tree, smiling at the sound of Poe's laughter. The two of them sat in comfortable silence, different from the stony hush of his unit. 2187 Armoured Battalion, a crew of specialists operating under the watchful gaze of Captain Phasma, a Russian on loan from the Soviet Army. How a woman had climbed so high in the ranks soon became clear.

A blue eyed, platinum-haired Hitler dream child, Phasma started out as a sniper in Russia, clawing her way into the rank system on her flawless kill record and daring, if unsanctioned, exploits. Finn had nothing but respect for her, although a little bit of resentment sometimes worked it's way into his head. After all, she'd put him in a rather compromising position.

During his first year in sanitation, his base had been stormed by a squadron of German shock troops, tasked with retrieving some documents or something. He never got the details. All he knew was that once the soldiers started coming he’d picked up a rifle and opened fire, somehow gathering enough forces as he went to push the troopers out of the base.

The cherry on top of the figurative sundae was the now infamous moment when he had appropriated a bazooka and gotten in the path of an approaching Panzer, taking a moment to taunt the operator before blowing their tin can to smithereens. He had the blast wounds on his face to prove it.

Now Phasma had been collecting soldiers, handpicking her own elite unit from every front, every branch. When she got wind of the story she had Finn immediately transferred to her division. She silenced any protests from those already on the team, made it clear that she would not stand for dissension within her own ranks.

 For the most part, her soldiers obliged. But there was resentment bubbling under that artificial peace, hatred burning on lips that remained sealed. Rage, impotent and fiery, towards the enemy, sure, but towards Finn especially. That someone like him should be their equal was a disgrace. Even those who didn't think it was that much of an issue felt compelled to turn away from him, abandoning him to protect themselves. He didn't blame them. Although sometimes he just got really tired of being the odd one out.

But he couldn't let it get to him. He'd be out soon. Whether it was from a bullet or from a stamp on his papers, he'd be back on familiar ground soon enough. The war couldn't last forever, could it?

“I like that song, actually.” he said suddenly. Poe blinked and looked over, pulling his pencil out of his mouth. “The countersign. Can’t remember the words for the life of me…” Poe leaned against the tree, his face twisted up in thought. He was quiet for a long while. But just when Finn was dozing off he blinked himself awake to a soft voice, dancing in the breeze like the trees overhead.

  _That certain night, the night we met,_  
_There was magic abroad in the air,_  
_There were angels dining at the Ritz,_  
_And a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square._

Poe sang with sweet simplicity, his voice like molasses dripping over the edge of the jar. Finn smiled and let his head thud back against the tree, sighing as an emptiness in his chest was filled for the first time in years. It's not that he missed music terribly. There was music in the army, there always would be. But the rousing war choruses, the Navy's sea chanties, even the folk songs borrowed from the French, none of it measured up to this.

 _The streets of town were paved with stars;_  
_It was such a romantic affair._  
_And as we kissed and said goodnight_  
_A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square…_

“Have you ever been to Berkeley Square?” Finn wondered without opening his eyes. He asked before Poe cut off the last note, not wanting to hear the song end. Poe shook his head and took another sip from his tin.

“Nope. Never seen a nightingale, either. Wonder what they sound like.”

“Can’t be as good as you.” Finn mumbled under his breath.

“What was that?” Poe asked, looking back at Finn.

“Can I steal that from you?” he asked, nodding at the can. Poe rolled his eyes and held it up. He was still grinning.

“I propose a toast. To not becoming a star in mom’s window.” he said grandly. He took a swig before passing it over to Finn. “To another twenty-four hours in Hell.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Finn laughed, tipping back their makeshift mug. He ran his fingers over the grooves in the metal, trying to find the warmth Poe’s touch had left behind. "Who's taking first watch?"

“Me. You’re dog-tired and just saved my ass from prison camp. You deserve a rest.”

“You know what, I'm not about to argue with that. G’night, Flyboy.” Poe shook his head and extended his hand.

“Poe. Poe Dameron.” he said. Finn sighed and stared at Poe’s calloused fingers. Well now, Finn couldn’t leave him hanging like that and keep a clear conscience.

“Finn Jones.” he relented, giving Poe's hand a squeeze. Poe broke out into a smile and Finn tilted his head back, hiding his own grin. A little wave of relief spread out from somewhere deep in his chest. “I like that better than Trooper.” he mumbled as he dropped off into well-deserved sleep. It took all of two seconds, and then he was dead to the world, as off guard as you could catch a soldier.

“So do I.” Poe said to himself. After much deliberation he shucked his jacket and threw it over Finn, who snuggled down into it, soaking up Poe's warmth. "Goodnight, Finn. Good to meet you."

 

\- ————————— -

 

They walked for another four days, stopping only when they had to. When they were out of range of enemy lines they talked to each other, about themselves, people they knew. As it happens they were both New Yorkers, although Poe had and always would be a Brooklyn kid while Finn had spent his whole life on the other side of the bridge, watching the Hudson crawl by outside of his dormitory window.

Turns out that Poe sang the blues, while Finn painted portraits. Finn's favourite artist was Picasso, who Poe accused of being all style and no substance. They both hated biology and they both loved to dance. At one point Poe broke into a waltz clog as they walked through a cobblestoned village, delighting the ragged children who were following him and Finn, hoping for handouts of American sweets.

On the fifth night they were holed up in a barn, just outside of a small village. Poe figured about six hundred people lived there, give or take. The old man who had set them up there had a son in the Resistance and was eager to help them. Poe didn’t understand a word out of his mouth but he seemed a decent fellow.

The side door swung open and Poe moved to hide the letter he was writing, but it was just Finn, who had had to wait for the cover of darkness to slip back into the barn. He’d been in the old man’s cottage, sending intel to the Resistance leaders via morse. Looked exhausted, the poor thing.

“We’re about a day’s walk from Tulle.” he announced. Poe nodded and handed him half a loaf of bread.

“And what happens in Tulle?” Poe asked.

Finn scowled at him around the bread he had stuffed in his mouth. The fact that he was still expected to do anything other than eat after the day he’d had seemed to irk him. In a direct attempt to antagonize Poe he chewed with paralytic slowness, only succeeding in making Poe laugh.

“We find a certain Resistance leader,” he said finally. “I give her certain information, I go back to my unit, and you’re up in the air again.”

 “Swell.” Poe rested against a hay bale, grinning. “It’s been fun, Finn. I’ll remember you.”

“Why just remember? We both live in New York, don’t we? Who’s to say we aren’t going to meet again?” Finn pointed out. Poe cracked a grin and ran a hand through his hair, trying to tame the unruly curls. “We should set something up, you know. May the fourth, 1946. Grand Central. That work for you?”

 “Dunno, buddy. I’m a pretty busy fella…” he teased. Finn made to punch him and Poe laughed, dancing out of the way as he broke into song, a popular number that was played in dance halls and whistled by soldiers when they got letters from their best girls.

 _Smile the while you kiss me sad adieu_  
_When the clouds roll by I'll come to you._  
_Then the skies will seem more blue,_  
_Down in Lover's Lane, my dearie._

 _Wedding bells will ring so merrily_  
_Ev'ry tear will be a memory._  
_So wait and pray each night for me_  
_'Till we meet again._

“You have a song for everything, don’t you?” Finn laughed. “And what am I supposed to do until then?”

"Just keep chugging along, I guess. There's really nothing else you can do. And keep that.” he nodded at the bomber jacket Finn had been living in for the past week. “I expect it back, though. Just giving you fair warning.”

Finn laughed again, and Poe looked up to find that his smile was dazzling, even in the dark. Unnaturally so, as though his face was reflecting firelight. His brow creased and he glanced at the barn doors, illuminated from the outside with a harsh orange glow.

“What the hell’s going on out there?" Poe wondered, glancing at Finn. His hand was creeping towards his gun and his face had taken on that hard, closed off expression he'd been wearing the first time they'd met. 

"Incendiaries." he muttered. "Dunno if it's charges or..." Suddenly a whistle cut through the night air like a knife. Finn looked like he knew that noise all too well. "Get down!" He ducked and rolled, but Poe wasn't fast enough.

The building collapsed around them in a shower of wood and mortar. A support beam caught the back of Poe’s head, sending him to the ground with a decisive thwack. Everything went a bit blurry after that.

When he came to a hand was on his arm, a voice whispering in his ear. "I'll come back for you. Stay right here. I'll come get you." He watched a pair of boots be swallowed up by the smoke worming its way into his lungs, watched them march off into the hellscape. Panic burnt in the back of his throat, swam sharp in his eyes.

 _No_ , he decided as he scrambled to his knees. _No, I'm not being left behind. I'm not letting him die._ He struggled out of the rubble, coughing and hacking and trying to remember the name of whoever he was chasing.

Gunfire and shrieks ripped through the night, flying around him like vampire bats, foul and biting. He took a step forward and his boot sunk into something soft and wet. Oh, this couldn't be good.

He looked down and realized he was standing in the guts of a woman who had been sliced open, mouth agape and eyes bulging with fear, even in death. He stumbled back, only for his heel to strike a decapitated old man in the ribs.

His head tilted one way and his stomach went the other as he took in the scene around him. The field was littered with corpses, frozen in tortured, unnatural positions, still trying to claw their way out of this nightmare.

Another boom ripped apart the countryside and he retched, his stomach heaving up what precious little was inside it. He brought a hand to his mouth in a useless attempt to stifle a burning sob, to soothe the pounding between his ears.

Sounds and sights pushed and pulled around him, screams echoing sweet against the ringing in his ears and the pounding in his skull, bloody bodies fragmented and sparkling like stained glass.  He raised a hand to his head, sweeping it over his sweat-slick curls. Only he wasn't sweating.

He stared at his bloody palm, suddenly reminded of one of the four books he had at home, the one about the prophecy, the witches and a general who would one day be king. But he didn't want to rule; he just wanted to run away. He had to run away.

As he staggered off he heard yelling, buildings crumbling, gunfire and more yells. Everything was on fire, robbing his lungs and the air around him of anything breathable.

 _"Stay here. I'll come get you. Just stay here."_  A promise echoed dully in his ears and Poe stumbled towards where he imagined the voice was coming from. Everything was blanketed by a white fuzz that just wouldn’t go away, and as Poe tried to stumble out of the fog things only became more indistinct.

He walked until his legs gave out, until the world was so topsy turvy that forwards was sideways and backwards was upside-down. He fell to his knees and closed his eyes, dimly aware of fine dust tickling his cheek, a dull pressure in his skull, and somewhere, far away now, a child crying.

When he heard that he tried to pull himself together, groping blindly in the dark, his mouth parted in a useless attempt to form words, to repeat the promises he'd made somewhere else, sometime else. A train ticket, a sea of khaki, a battered teddy bear being pressed into his hands. That's all he had, the bits and pieces. Well, that wasn't true. There were also words, if he could remember them.

_"Todo irá bien, cariño. Papá se va a estar en casa antes de que usted lo sepa."_

_His daughter looked up at him, big brown eyes wet with tears. "De verdad?"_

_"Verdaderamente."_

The voice was still calling to him, but it was getting further away, and his daughter with it. He wanted to leap to his feet, reach out, call out to them,  _Wait! You've forgotten me!_ He wanted to pull his daughter close, wanted to reassure the voice that he was alright, that everything was alright. But it was all he could do not to sob as his vision darkened once more, as the fire inside him died and the flames around him only grew.

When he closed his eyes he dreamt of the train, of the tiny figure waving at him from the platform, still calling out goodbyes and I-love-yous, missing him even when he was still in plain sight, when she knew he was alive and whole. He watched her shrinking form until she was nothing but a speck on the horizon, and even then he kept staring, the pain in his skull nothing compared to the empty aching in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'know the funny thing is I'm actually supposed to be writing an essay on WWII right now. This counts if you ask me.


	2. Manhattan, 1946

Finn looked up from the morning paper, the warm pages still wet from the press. His eyes flickered up and down the empty street with uneasy jitteriness, as though anticipating an attack. When nothing materialized he decided it must have been his imagination. His paranoia indulged, he pushed his glasses back up and went back to the article he'd been reading. It didn't matter that he did this every day; he'd always be struck by the hush of early morning, how buildings appeared to be holding their collective breath. Spooky didn't begin to cover it.

By the time the trolley rolled around he was so shaken that he hopped on before it chugged to a full stop. The operator gave a customary harrumph as Finn's tarnished coins clinked into the fare box, brazen and brassy in the silence. His nose was still buried in the newsprint as he made his way to the back seats. Out of habit really, as the bus was pretty empty at this hour. No one onboard but the driver, Finn, and a man slumped over in the far corner.

Finn sat down and glanced at the sleeping stranger, wrapped in altogether too many layers for early spring. His head lolled back and forth at every speed bump and pothole, knocking against the guitar case in the seat beside him. If the bus stopped suddenly he'd be sent sprawling onto the floor. As funny as that may prove to be, Finn figured it would be rude if he didn't at least try to wake him up.

"Hey." He kicked the guy in the shin, just hard enough to make him snort and open one eye. “I’m sorry, but you were getting tossed around like a kite in a hurricane. It was stressing me out." The man nodded and pressed the heel of his hand to his face, blinking himself out of sleep.

"Yeah. Thanks for that." he yawned, his jaw cracking with a sickening pop. A smirk tugged at the corner of Finn's lips.

"Wild night, huh?"

"Dunno 'bout wild, but it was a damn long one…" The man rubbed the back of his neck, blinking at Finn out of fatigue rimmed eyes. "You seem awful perky for someone up at this godforsaken hour."

"I'm used to it." Finn laughed. For some reason this conversation was easy. Smooth and effortless, like an exchange between old friends. Considering the fact that Finn didn't have many friends, he'd be able to narrow down who he was talking to pretty quickly.

"Well, I'm not. What's your secret?"

"I dunno. Just keep chugging along, I guess." A phrase he'd picked up in France, it had somehow wormed its way into his vernacular. He hadn't had a say in it. The stranger nodded in approval, readjusting his cap over dark unruly curls.

"That's what I always say." His laugh was a clear, easy note that hung sweet in the air. Finn blinked and looked up. Suddenly he was back in France, tired and bruised but somehow happier than he'd ever been before. He knew that laugh. He’d carried it back home with him, kept it tucked in his back pocket ever since he'd heard it last, in a barn on the outskirts of Oradour-sur-Glane, right before everything went to hell.

“Flyboy?” Finn's heart thudded in his chest, watching realization dawn on Poe's face.

"Oh, you gotta be kidding me." Before the words were even out of his mouth he was up and jumping at Finn, who had sprung to his feet and now clung to Poe with one arm, holding onto a strap with the other in an attempt to keep the both of them balanced. "Finn, buddy, am I glad to see you!"

Finn buried his face in Poe's neck, not caring that he got a mouthful of wool scarf. "What happened to you? I came back and you weren't there-"

"Got a concussion and wandered off. Sorry about that. How did you..."

"Get out? Don't remember the details, but there was a lot of shouting and shooting involved. Got a medal for it, so I must've done something right. Didn't get to enjoy it, though, seeing as you were dead." They broke apart, but only because they were in real danger of being knocked off their feet. Poe grinned and clapped Finn on the shoulder to steady him, his exhaustion completely forgotten. The man looked downright chipper. "I'm glad I was wrong, for once. Hey, not that I'm complaining, but what the hell are you doing here?"

“Had a gig in Chelsea.” Poe slapped the worn guitar case sitting beside him, mismatched screws on the polished handle, leather cracking around the joints. You could tell just how well-loved an instrument it was.

“I didn’t know you played.”

“I would have brought it along with me, but it’s pretty hard to fit a guitar into a cockpit. Especially when I gotta squeeze my fat ass in with it.”

“Yeah, you’ve let yourself go. What’re you up to these days?”

"Flight instructor. Training the boys for whatever war rolls around next. You?"

"This and that. Taking night courses for the civil service exam. I want to write it in a few months."

“Looking to become a copper, are you? I knew you'd go for something like that." Poe leant back, glancing outside as they passed by an empty stop. "Where’re you getting off?”

“Jefferson Park. You're welcome to come along. I know a great place for coffee. You could do with a pick me up."

"On that point, we all agree."

  


\- ————————— -

  


By the time Finn dragged Poe off of the trolley the stars were clocking it in for the night, the moon relinquishing its control of the sky. Poe tilted his head back to stare at the dimming light show, drunk on sleep and a little bit of beer. Finn had to push him into the cafe, his laughter tinkling in the half-light of dawn. They were greeted by a tiny, weather-beaten woman, arms glittering with bracelets and hair tucked back under a knit cap. She blinked at Poe through a thick pair of glasses, scrutinizing him with large brown eyes.

“Hey, Maz. How are things?” Finn asked. She just clucked and set them up at a table by the window, shaking her head when she saw Finn's bulging binder filled with notes and booklets.

“Finn my boy, you work yourself too hard.” she chastised as she set a steaming teapot between them. “And who’s this?”

“Poe Dameron. We met-”

“-In France. A pilot, I wager." She grabbed Poe's scarf, nodding to herself. "Grease stains, goggle tan, callouses just like Han's..." She traced Poe's palm with thin brown fingers and nodded again. "Decent guitar player as well."

"Slow down there, Sherlock..." Finn rolled his eyes and filled their mugs, squinting when his glasses got steamed up. "You're scaring the poor man."

Maz chuckled and gave Poe's hand a pat as she withdrew. "Food will be out in a moment. In the meantime, Finn, you should ask him about his daughter. She's his whole world, you know."

Poe watched her walk off, his jaw slack. Then he held up his hand and squinted at it, trying to read it like Maz had. "I got nothing. How did she..." Finn laughed as he poured most of the creamer pot into his mug.

"I've learnt to not question it. So, how's your daughter? Y'know it's funny, but I never caught her name, and you talked about her so much..." Poe settled back in his chair, eyes bright with fondness and pride. 

"Beatrice. I call her Bebe, though. Most of the family does. She's turning six in September. Just started school this year. Came back after the first day and told me she would rather wear her Sunday dress all week if it meant not having to go back. And she hates that dress..."

They chatted for what felt like a long time, swapping stories of what had happened after they'd been separated. Turns out they'd been to a couple of the same shows, frequented a few of the same haunts. They even had a few mutual friends.

"So how'd you meet them?" Finn asked around the beignet he had stuffed in his mouth. Poe poured himself more coffee, knocking it back without bothering to add anything.

"Ben and me were two peas in a pod growing up. Han taught the both of us a thing or two about aviation. I haven't known Rey all that long, but she's a sweetheart. And Leia's sort of adopted me as her second son. How about you?"

"I met Rey first. She snuck into physical training at the Academy and managed to stick around for a good three months before anyone noticed we had a lady in our midst. I knew all about Han even before I met her, though. He fought in the first war, didn't he?"

"Yep. Billy Bishop's wingman, or vice-versa, depends who you ask. Still undecided which one of them hit the Red Baron. Han swears on the Falcon that he shot first."

"I, for one, believe him." Finn said loyally.

"Figured you would. Still can't believe you know them too, by the way. How have I not seen you around before?" Poe asked in wonder. Finn shrugged, a good-natured grin on his face.

"Maybe you weren't supposed to yet."

  


\- ————————— -

  


When Maz finally kicked them out Finn nodded down the street, looking hopefully at Poe. “I live a block away. And I've got something to give you."

"Oh boy. I'm excited. Lead on." 

A minute later they were standing in front of a brownstone identical to all the others crowded on his block, a sturdy brick cube pockmarked with small windows and patches of cracking mortar. Finn led Poe up a narrow staircase, stopping to chat with a few people they met on their way up. Apparently he wasn't the only one working on an unusual schedule.

Finn's door was a bit brighter than the others, owing to the smears of paint and ink on and around the doorknob. "It's a huge mess, just warning you…" he told Poe as he dug around in his pockets for his keys. Poe laughed and shook his head.

"I have a five year old, buddy. I'm pretty sure I'm the authority on messes."

"You think your place is messier than mine?" Finn pushed the door open and Poe's eyes widened as he took in the sight. Finn snorted and rested against the door jamb, picking at a splotch of sky-blue ink by his elbow. "I'm calling bull on that one, just saying."

It was like a hurricane had picked up an art gallery in Soho and deposited it in the middle of the tenements district. Rolls of canvas were stored in the umbrella stand by the door, and the paint splattered walls were lined with equally colourful wooden shelves. Finn had somehow managed to balance all manner of art supplies on the narrow planks, inks and brushes and things Poe didn't even have names for. God forbid an earthquake strike New York; Finn would be one of the first casualties.

A few easels were scattered around the room, most of them covered with old bedsheets that made them look like ghosts. Poe's aviator jacket was draped over the couch, and was being snuggled by a fat tabby that had stretched itself across the cushions to soak up the sunrise filtering in through the window, its purring harmonizing perfectly with the hissing radiator on the far wall.

“Fine, you win.” Poe relented, setting down his guitar by the door.

“I told you.” Finn laughed, picking his way across the room. The floor was a minefield of unwashed dishes and clothes and inexplicable trinkets. Poe’s favourite had to be the gumball machine lying on its side by the front door. It still had candy in it.

“You got a penny?” he called over to the kitchen. Finn poked his head into the front room, two beers in hand.

"Just warning you, those things are probably older than I am. I'm surprised they haven't sprouted legs and walked away yet." He walked over to the couch and nudged the sleeping cat with his knee, but when it didn't wake up he just sighed and squeezed into what little space there was beside it. "Beer?"

"Nah, it's Sunday. I'm not allowed to enjoy myself as of half an hour ago." Finn smirked and Poe rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, we Catholics are a buncha nutters. What was it you were going to show me, by the way? Now I'm curious." 

"Two things, actually. Back in two shakes." Finn hopped up and disappeared into what must be the bedroom. While he was gone Poe took a peek around the room, picking up this and that, running his fingers over the textured surface of the finished paintings hanging on Finn's wall. He was tracing the swooping steeple of Notre Dame when he heard Finn clear his throat. He turned around and laughed, seeing what Finn had in his hands.

"You lose this somewhere?" Finn was holding a teddybear that looked about as battered as Poe usually felt. It had a new powder blue ribbon tied around its neck, but other than that it looked exactly the same as he remembered. Finn tossed it to him, grinning from ear to ear.

"Where did you find that?" Poe asked, smiling as he smoothed out the doll's tangled fur.

"I came across it in a field, just before you tried to shoot my head off." Finn watched as Poe ran his fingers over the stump where the bear's right arm used to be. "He had a bit of an accident, but I doubt Bebe will mind…" 

"Who doesn't come home from a war without battle scars?" Poe reasoned. "The jacket's all yours, but this is coming home with me." Poe looked up to grin at Finn, but he got more than he bargained for. He barely registered the kiss before Finn jerked away, looking absolutely horrified.

"Oh, I, um..." Finn stuttered around his apology, eyes wide and mouth trembling. Poe hadn't said a word yet. He just set the bear down on the couch and took a step towards Finn, who shrunk back, anticipating the hit that never came.

A second later Poe had Finn up against the wall, palms pressed to Finn's heaving chest. Finn’s hands had slid up under Poe’s coat, coming to rest on his waist. They weren't kissing, but this was more intimate, somehow, pinning someone with your gaze rather than your body, like leaving the door open to a lion's den, just trusting that you would come out alive.

“That was rather…” Finn began lamely.

“Uncalled for?” Poe provided the words for Finn, who nodded and dug his fingers into Poe’s sides, unable to decide whether he should be pushing away or pulling him close. But he had to come to a decision. This was just unacceptable. 

Poe's hands were a gentle pressure on Finn's chest, but he wasn’t pushing away, far from it. Finn shuddered as Poe’s arms encircled his neck, bringing them nose to nose. It felt so perfect. All Finn wanted was to close the gap, part Poe's lips with his own, fall forward into his touch and taste and breath without so much as a second thought. And that was the problem.

"Finn?" Poe's voice made the hair stand up on the back of Finn's neck, made his palms itch for contact, made his heart sink deeper into the pit of self-hatred and fear that had yawned open in his chest. Finn bit his lip and looked down, shame burning in his cheeks. So he hadn't been imagining things. He was even more screwed up than he thought.

“I always knew there was something wrong with me.” Finn murmured. “I always knew there was more to it than just…” He shook his head, breath shaky against Poe’s neck. “God…goddamn. I’m going to be committed, aren’t I? They’re going to fucking lobotomize me." His hands dropped back to Poe’s waist and he let out a sharp laugh. "Aw, who am I kidding? They’re not even going to waste the resources. They’re just going to put a bullet in my brain and call it an accident. I bet that’s what they’ll do. That's what's going to happen, I know it...”

“Finn, buddy, look at me.” Poe's touch called Finn back to reality, the firmness of his voice grounding him, rooting him in the moment. “It’s alright.” he insisted gently. He couldn’t help but press a kiss to Finn’s sweaty forehead. “Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

“You don’t know that.” Finn mumbled. He rubbed circles in the small of Poe’s back, working the kinks out of his stiff muscles. “You’re to blame, you know. I caught it from you.”

“It’s not the flu, Finn…” Finn rolled his eyes and Poe cupped his face, sweeping his thumbs across the ridge of Finn's cheekbones. “No, listen. It’s not a sickness. It’s not something to be cured or fixed. It's here to stay, and so are you.”

"So I can't just leave?" he sighed regretfully.

"Hell no. I'm not watching you walk away ever again. You're staying safe, got that?"

"Yes, mother." Finn's voice was soft, but the spark had come back into his eyes. Poe smiled and kissed him, giving his lower lip an impatient tug.

"Is the door locked?"

"Both bolts, all four latches, and the chain. I could tuck a chair under the doorknob if you like."

“Seems a tad excessive…”

“There’s no such thing.” Finn grabbed Poe by the wrist, pulling him by the hand across the room. "Bed?"

"I like the sound of that." Poe laughed as he let Finn drag him off. The bedroom was somehow even messier than the front room, but there were some things that Poe was willing to let slide, especially when Finn was involved. 

Finn wriggled out of his clothes while Poe rummaged through his medicine cabinet, looking for something. He tossed the tube of Vaseline he'd unearthed over to Finn, who wrestled with the cap while he watched Poe undress, his face alight with curiosity, absently stroking himself every now and again. The springs squeaked when Poe joined him on the bed, settling down only a couple of inches away.

"I take it you've never…" Finn shook his head as he pushed Poe down and slipped a pillow under his hips.

"No, but how hard can it be?" Finn rubbed Poe's tummy, tracing the stretch marks and dark curls that led down into his shorts. But even when those were on the floor he was still focused on the squishy bits, basically ignoring Poe's dick, which was adorable, if somewhat frustrating. 

"Alright, alright..." Poe swatted at Finn's hands, still pressed to his belly. "I get it. I'm still fat. Thanks for making sure." Finn frowned at Poe before planting a kiss on the ridge of his stomach, making it jiggle ever so slightly.

“There’s nothing wrong with having a bit of an alderman. I like it.” He settled back and looked at Poe, a smile spreading across his face as he fondled Poe's belly. "Makes me want to paint something…" he sighed. "You could model for me. I'll pay for your services." He kneaded at Poe's stomach, grinning as he pushed and pulled at the workable flesh.

"What are you planning on painting? A prize hog? If anyone should be showing off their body for money it's you." He ran his hands over Finn's arms, catching on the dents and grooves of corded muscle and firm skin, almost too perfect, as though they had been sculpted from a block of marble. "An Adonis if I've ever seen one."

"You're too kind." Finn laughed, pressing a trail of kisses down Poe’s chest and stomach. He really was one of the kindest human beings Finn had ever had the pleasure of meeting. More than that, he was the only human being who had ever let him see them up close, naked and exposed in the purest sense of the word.  No one had ever held his gaze like this, dropped their lashes at his smile, allowed him to touch and poke and feel as much as he wanted. For once he wasn’t being denied anything; in fact, he was being offered more than he could take. 

They took their time, prepping more than might have actually been necessary, but Finn insisted on being careful. When Finn finally edged himself in Poe let out a low moan, soft in Finn's ears. "You okay?" Finn asked, stilling as much as he could, afraid he'd done something wrong. Poe nodded and shifted, sweat already shining on his chest and neck.

"Sorry, it's been awhile." He ran a hand through Finn's hair, pulling him down into a kiss. "I just need a minute."

"Okay."

They rocked together, Finn bracing himself against the headboard. With every push they sunk a little deeper into the mattress, into each other. When Finn began to move in earnest Poe fell back with a soft huff of laughter, reaching down to clutch Finn's rear end, gasping indistinct encouragements, his words drowned out by Finn's rough panting.

A moment later Finn grunted, trying to regain control of his hips when they fell into an uneven cadence that wasn't getting any slower. Poe’s breath hitched and stars began to spark behind his eyes, setting off a string of fireworks in his head. A cry escaped his lips and his body jerked, upsetting the rhythm Finn had so carefully maintained up until now.

Finn winced as Poe spasmed around him, finally throwing decency to the wind, finally taking what he wanted. His face screwed up as he pushed in further than before, hitting home with a slight shudder. Poe swore he felt a tremble, a twitching somewhere deep inside him. Turns out he was right. Finn let out a strangled gasp as he pulled out, wet heat splattering Poe's abdomen, fast and messy. A groan rumbled in Finn's throat and Poe opened his eyes, smiling, but the look on Finn's face was almost terrified. Poor guy looked like he wanted to apologize. 

"Hey." Poe reached up and rubbed the top of Finn's head, tugging gently at his bristly curls. "Something wrong?"

"I'm fine, I just..." Finn shook his head and wet his lips, letting himself laugh when Poe pulled him down into a kiss. "Fuck, Poe..."

For a long moment, they just lay there gasping at each other. After awhile Poe stretched and sighed, running his fingers over a scar in Finn's back. The space between his ears was warm and buzzing, thoughts evaporating before he could make sense of them. His head hadn't been this outta whack since that concussion. Finn kissed Poe's befuddled smile, grinning against the gap between Poe's front teeth.

"I didn't know you had it in you..." Poe laughed.

"Well, I'm just full of surprises." Finn rubbed Poe's stomach, fingers coming away white and sticky. "That wasn't as complicated as everybody made it out to be."

"Anyone could do it." Poe threw a blanket over Finn’s shoulders, using the tasselled ends to pull him down into a kiss. "Tired?"

"More than I should be. Is that normal?"

"It's your first time. You did great, _amor_." Finn smiled at Poe, but that smile vanished when he saw the time. "You have work in a couple hours, don't you?" Finn nodded, his face scrunched up like a pouting child.

"I wish you could stay.” he sighed. 

"I'll be back soon." Poe gave Finn's shoulder a reassuring squeeze as he rolled out of bed. "Count on it." Finn nodded as he watched Poe dress, reaching out to run a hand over the soft curve of his stomach, the defined ridges of his shoulders. A sort of quiet wonder was in his touch, like a child trying to take hold of the rainbow they saw dancing on the wall. Poe let himself be pulled into Finn's arms once more, feeling a little absurd with his shirt still unbuttoned and his pants dangling around his knees.

"You're alright now?" he asked. But Finn was asleep against his chest, already snoring. Poe grinned and eased him back onto the bed. After covering him up Poe pecked him on the forehead and tiptoed away. "See you soon." he whispered before closing the bedroom door. He gathered up his things, taking special care with the teddy bear, before he hurried down the stairs, listening as the tenants woke up behind closed doors, getting ready for the day ahead.

Outside, cool morning sunshine washed the streets in a quiet glow. Poe looked back at the crumbling brownstone, the light he'd left burning in the kitchen window, the cat slinking out onto the fire escape. The same smile he'd kissed Finn with was still on his lips, and it wasn't going away anytime soon.

The streets were pretty empty, he noticed. It was altogether too early to be up on a Sunday, and he didn't feel like going home quite yet. He could make it to early morning Mass and then hop the trolley back to Brooklyn, probably arrive on his doorstep at the same time as Bebe and Dad, surprise her with the bear. That seemed to be a good idea.

He strolled across the street, a skip in his step and a song on his lips, a new one he'd only heard the day before. Somehow he'd managed to retain a verse or two. 

_ I love you for sentimental reasons _  
_I hope you do believe me_  
_I'll give you my heart_

 _ I love you and you alone were meant for me _  
_Please give your loving heart to me_  
_And say we'll never part..._  


	3. Brooklyn, 1946

When the clock outside chimed three in the morning, Finn pushed the cat off his chest and stretched, squinting at the calendar sitting on the bedside table. Friday, thank God. So there was just today to get through, and then it would be the weekend, which meant sleeping in, getting drunk, and being with Poe, of course. Couldn’t forget that.

They had kept this thing between them going for a couple of months, now, and honestly? It was easier to hide than either of them had figured. It had gotten to the point where Finn just left his front door open on Saturday and Sunday, ostensibly to let air into the stuffy rooms, but actually because he liked coming out of the bath or running back upstairs with the mail to find Poe sitting on the couch with the cat in his lap, grinning and holding a box from the bakery down the street.

Just as Finn was ready to bolt out the door he noticed that there was somebody singing outside his window, or at least something akin to singing. Finn pushed open the frame and looked out into the alley, peering down between the laundry lines crowded with a week's worth of washing.

 _I think of you every morning_  
_Dream of you every night_  
_Darling, I'm never lonely_  
_Whenever you are in sight_

 _I love you for sentimental reasons_  
_I hope you do believe me_  
_I've given you my heart..._

“I liked that song you know, before you butchered it.” Finn called out into the alley. A head of matted hair poked into view, followed by the rest of the unkempt individual, who looked up at Finn with a wide grin.

“Can’t a hobo make an honest living without being heckled?”

“Not in this day and age. You’re part of a dying breed, Lou. The New Deal’s been around for nearly a decade, and now bum’s like you’ve got no excuse for warbling in back alleys.”

“Old habits die hard. Been at this for thirty years, and I ain’t stopping anytime soon, to hell with what FDR says. Now give an old man a handout, would ya?”

“Alright, hold your horses…” Finn slid the window shut, feeling a bit bad for causing a ruckus at this hour. At least it wasn’t a drunken brawl that ended in a murder. Those were frightfully common, now that he thought about it.

When Finn ran outside Lou poked his head out of the alley, grinning. The old scamp came around every now and again, and Finn had to admit, he was fond of the guy. Told pretty good stories, when he was drunk enough, at least.

“You’re an angel, Finn. Where’re you off to today?” Before answering Finn dug into his bag and pulled out his lunch. Bologna and cheese, nothing fancy, but Lou stared at it like it was the Holy Grail.

“There’s work at the wharf if you feel like doing any.” Finn pointed out when Lou planted himself decisively on the stoop. “Why the hell are you singing at this hour?”

“Because either folks’ll give me money to leave, or the coppers’ll book me and I have a nice warm cell to stay in. By the way, thanks for the offer, but I’ll leave working to you young people.” Lou decided as he unwrapped the sandwich. Finn sighed, louder than was necessary. "Well go on now, don't want to be late."

 

\- ————————— -

 

Finn leant against the bus seat and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to work the kink out of his shoulders. Nines had promised that loading shipping crates would be easy money, a cake walk for someone with Finn's strength. _Tell that to my spine,_ Finn thought. But at the end of it all he had a handful of change jangling in his pocket and the promise of steady work until midsummer. So all in all, he was willing to take the fat with the lean.

And there were some advantages. The hours were good, three thirty to eleven, at least by Finn's standards. But the biggest benefit was that the docks were only a hop skip and a trolley ride away from the airfield. Rey practically lived in the garage behind the hangar. She'd probably be there today, actually. He hadn't said hi in awhile, and he didn't feel like getting tracked down in a back alley for neglecting their friendship.

The first thing he noticed when he walked into the garage was the white polka dotted dress draped over the office chair under the window, bright yellow spots like miniature suns in the dusty room, so whoever wore it looked a little bit like a cluster of daisies. A matching purse was sitting on the desk, beside a busted-up radio that was blaring bebop at full volume.

Finn walked in just as the trumpet was coming off what must have been a wild solo if the way Rey's feet were tapping was any indication. Most of her body was hidden underneath the car she was working on; all Finn could see were the rolled up cuffs of the jeans she had swiped from her big brother and a battered pair of once-white tennis shoes.

Rey had never heard jazz before coming to the States, but the second she did, the girl was hooked. Apparently the nuns at her orphanage had been about as passionate about the arts as the ones Finn had grown up with.

The Solos had taken her in eight years ago, at the start of the war when kids were being carted out of London by the thousands. When they realised she was an orphan they decided they may as well keep her. But how could they have done otherwise? You’d have been hard-pressed to find a cuter eleven-year-old in New York State, and besides, Ben had always wanted siblings.

“Let me guess: Gillespie?” Finn said over the music. Rey stopped working, her laugh bright and sweet in the dimness. It was just like, well, just like a ray of sunshine.

“Who else could play the horn like that?” She rolled out from underneath the chassis and smiled at Finn. "Hullo, stranger. Where have you been hiding for the past two months?”

"Under the Brooklyn bridge. I'm the new resident troll." Rey snorted and rolled back beneath the car. "But enough about my enthralling life. Anything new on your end?"

“Hold on there, buster. I’m not done with you yet. There’s something different about you, and if I learnt anything about hormonal teenagers, it’s that you’ve got yourself a fella. You and Dameron wouldn't happen to be dancing the horizontal polo, would you?" Finn nearly toppled off his chair, making Rey snicker.

"What the hell are you…" he sputtered. Rey just laughed harder, almost dropping her wrench.

“You can tell me if playing grab-ass with the pilot.”

"Stop talking."

“So you’re not having a bit of fruit?”

"How d'you know all these terms?"

"Drilling for oil, yarding it up, ravelling his little ball of yarn. Basically, what I'm trying to ask is whether or not you're getting any."

"I'm going to kill you…” Finn sighed. He wandered across the room and scooped up the baby-blue watering can sitting on one of the shelves. Wherever Rey spent a significant amount of time, somehow at least eight potted plants showed up there within the first two weeks. Flowers, herbs, anything really, but the crown of her collection was a tulip she’d found growing in a boot on the side of the road. That was enshrined on the windowsill, where it could soak up the sun without any competition.

Finn watered the tulip carefully, taking a moment to run his fingers over the creamy petals. “Not saying that we are, but if we did happen to be…intimate…” Finn cleared his throat and Rey snorted. “How would you have come into possession of such sensitive information?”

"Let's just say a little bird told me. Oh, speak of the devil." The back door was kicked open and Rey’s brother ducked into the room, a stack of boxes in his arms. “Hey, Ben. We get that shipment of pistons yet?"

”Dad said he’d take care of it.” Ben set down the boxes and ran a hand through his hair, which he was still growing out after it had been buzz cut during his deployment. “Are those my jeans?”

“Not important right now. He told me to tell you that you have to pick them up.”

"I had to do it last time…”

“Don’t be a square. Hey, maybe that ginger will tag along. The drive’ll take you through some pretty dense woods. Perfect for debauchery.”

“Up yours.” Ben snapped as he strolled off.

"Love you too, brother." The door slammed shut and Rey rolled out from underneath the car, whistling as she wiped her hands off on her jeans.

“Whose love life are you not invested in?” Finn wondered aloud.

“Mine. By the way, don’t worry about this getting spread around. Just the four of us know, I promise. And if any family’s going to out you, it’s definitely not going to be this one.”

”Oh, good. It's not exactly something I'd like to be made public. How long have you known about me, by the way?"

Rey bit her lip and tilted her head back, pretending to think her way around the question. "Hm, well the physical evaluation when training started was a pretty big tip off. You were as wide-eyed as a fat kid in a candy shop."

"It can't have been that obvious."

"Really? I think I caught a few fellas posing for you. But you’re shacked up with Dameron now, so I suppose you've only got eyes for him."

“You’re blowing this out of proportion, Rey. We had a one night stand."

“Yes, weekly one night stands and coffee every other day. You might want to check your math.” She wiped the grease off of her hands and kissed Finn on the forehead. ”Oh, stop sulking. I’m happy for you. If anyone deserves to be in love it's you."

 

\- ————————— -

 

"Doesn't it strike you as odd that no one's allowed the life they want?" Finn opened his eyes and glanced at Rey, who had sat up and pulled her knees to her chest, staring at the planes swooping and diving over the airfield.

“Elaborate, maybe?” Finn mumbled, shielding his eyes against the mid afternoon sun. The two of them were hanging around on the roof of the building opposite the garage, an abandoned tenement that had yet to be condemned and knocked down. Rey took a sip of Finn’s beer as she scrambled to her feet and made her way across the heat-sticky roof, humming under her breath.

“Oh, you know. You and Poe, Ben and the redhead I see him with sometimes. Me, for that matter." Rey scrunched up her face and hopped onto the roof ledge, teetering back and forth and swinging her legs about with complete disregard to how high up they were. "None of us are allowed to be what we want. I want to be a pilot. You want to be in love. None of that sounds unreasonable, but we're stuck hiding behind propriety.”

“Technically, this whole thing right now is an issue as well.” Finn gestured vaguely between himself and Rey, who had hopped off the ledge and set about climbing the chimney. This kid couldn’t sit still for two seconds, could she?

“Bullshit.” Rey said calmly. She found an empty coke bottle in the chimney and tossed it across the roof. It shattered in a satisfying spray of glass, winking at them in the sunlight. “None of us are hurting anyone, so what’s the harm? All these rules, about how you're supposed to keep to your own while I keep to mine, accept less than you deserve and be happy about it, why do we need them? Not to mention the fact that you loving somebody is illegal. Something about that seems wrong, don't you think? It’s not even because Poe’s a man. Even I get weird looks when I hug you on the streets.”

"I'm beneath you, remember? Just a step or two down the evolutionary ladder. And even you're kept in pretty low regard. A nineteen-year-old with no intention to marry, ever? Talk about a waste of the only thing women are good for.”

"Like hell I'm spending my whole life baking cakes and doing laundry for some mannequin man. That’s not what I want.”

“Maybe, but it’s the way things are, Rey.” God, he sounded like a cynical old man. Finn sighed and squinted up a Rey, a slim silhouette against the sky. "There're just some things we can't do." Rey screwed up her face, hair whipping about in the wind.

"See? That doesn't make sense. There's so much out there and I don't understand why we're not allowed to take it." She balanced on one leg, dangerously close to tipping into the street. "Why don't you and me trade? I'll slink about in the background being hated on by old white women and having to dodge arrest every other day while you can move upstate with Poe. You’ll love it, I bet. Get yourselves a nice brick house with a yard, a living room with a big ol’ radio in it, and a shiny chrome kitchen with a refrigerator that I can raid on weekends.”

"You sure have an imagination, Rey…" Finn sighed. It was a cockamamie idea if he’d ever heard one, but boy, that image was appealing. And he could picture it so clearly.

Him, Poe, maybe a couple kids; a happy family living the American dream. After a long day, he’d pull into the double garage set back in a neat little yard, hop out of his car and scoop up the wriggling toddler who rushed outside to greet him. There would be nights spent sitting up with coffee and a plate full of dinner, waiting for Poe to come home after the idiot agreed to do overtime for the fifth night in a row. There would be Christmas and Easter and barbeques with the neighbours because obviously they’d all be okay with living next to the darky and the spic.

Finn snorted and took another swig of beer. Pipe dreams, he had to remind himself. Nothing but sweet-smelling smoke.

“I’ve gotta run.” he said after glancing at his watch. Without a word, Rey hopped off of her perch and wrapped him up in a hug. Finn smiled and hugged back, lifting her off her feet just because he could.

“Visit more often, would you?" she said into his collar. "You're the only one kinda my age around here."

"I'll come more often during the summer. Maybe you can teach me to fly, then."

“I don’t think so. You're staying on the ground, gopher." she teased as they pulled away.

"Ouch. See you later, pigeon." Rey saluted and Finn smiled, turning away to clatter down the rusty fire escape as Rey's laugh glowed bright behind him.

 

\- ————————— -

 

Poe wandered down the path, whistling a tune he'd heard when he was walking by a barbershop. The air was muggy with the promise of rain, but Poe was in too much of a good mood for something as simple as precipitation to bother him. He was staring into a dandelion by the side of the trail when suddenly, he was grabbed around the waist and pulled down into the grass. He squawked and flailed, only giving up when he found himself staring into a pair of familiar, smiling brown eyes, wet with tears from laughing so hard.

“Hey, sugar.” Finn grinned at Poe, who rolled his eyes and smacked him in the chest as he stumbled to his feet, grumbling. But after taking a quick glance around them he leant back down and pecked Finn on the cheek.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked, adjusting Finn's specs.

“Taking a stroll. You?” Worth mentioning was that he was still on the ground, smiling up at Poe with legs splayed apart.

“Got off early and felt like picking up the kid.” Poe nodded to where he imagined the school was located. It was one of the nicer schools in the area, set in a nice bit of the woody park where Poe and Finn found themselves.

It was a bit of a hike from Poe's apartment, but the walk was worth Bebe not having to deal with a teacher who believed in corporal punishment. Knowing her, she’d probably grab the stick and start smacking the teacher. As entertaining as that may prove to be, it was best for them to keep a low profile.

“Mind if I tag along? I've never met her.”

“Be my guest.” He hauled Finn to his feet, dusting him off even though it wasn't all that necessary. “Heads up, she might not take kindly to you at first…”

“Does anyone?”

“I sure did.”

“The first thing you ever did was try and shoot me."

“I’m never going to live that down, am I?” Poe sighed. Finn shook his head and grinned.

"No, but you can sure try."

School had just been let out and a rowdy crowd of kids were on the playground, running and jumping and screaming. Poe went right up to the fence, but Finn stayed a ways away from the building, leant up against a tree with his hands in his pockets and a rambling, tuneless whistle on his lips. He was chewing listlessly on a stick of gum he’d discovered in his pocket when he noticed Poe walking back over, holding a little girl’s hand.

It was obvious that while Poe put little to no effort in his own appearance, Bebe was given all the attention in the world. Her neatly pressed skirt swished with orange and white pleats, and the blue bows in her dark curls were smooth as satin. She skipped alongside Poe, swinging his arm back and forth and singing some nursery rhyme about an old woman and a shoe. But she fell silent when she noticed Finn. Not the frozen, terrified hush Finn sometimes expected from children, but more like a guard dog sizing up a threat, picking out the perfect spot to sink its fangs into.

Poe cleared his throat and nudged her forward, keeping a hand on her shoulder. "Finn, this is Beatrice. Beatrice, say hello to Finn."

"Hello." Finn grinned down at Bebe, who was fiddling with the end of her skirt, twisting the fabric between her fingers.

"That's Papá's jacket." Those were the first words out of Bebe's mouth. She stared up at Finn, round face set in an exaggerated grimace. "Give it back, you stealer! "

She stuck out her tongue at him before retreating to hide behind her dad's leg. Poe blinked, not quite sure how to react. Then he twisted and tried to grab hold of Bebe, who was holding onto his knee and throwing him off balance. Eventually he gave up, not even complaining when Bebe tugged at his sleeve, wanting to be held. 

"Beatrice Shara Dameron I swear to God.." Poe glanced at Finn, an apology ready on his lips, but Finn was laughing so hard he had to lean against the tree for support.

“I guess it runs in the family.” he snickered. Poe rolled his eyes and scooped up Bebe, who wrapped her arms around his neck, glaring at Finn out of round brown eyes.

"That was rude, Beatrice, got that? I gave Finn the jacket, and even if I hadn't you shouldn't stick your tongue out at strangers. Now say sorry." Bebe shook her head again, curls bouncing over her shoulders.

"Let me. Hey, Bebe." Finn tapped the little girl on the shoulder and waved, showing off his empty hand. "Want to see a trick?"

At first Bebe stayed sullen, but her jaw dropped and her eyes widened when Finn pulled a piece of taffy straight out of her ear. He presented it to her with a flourish, grinning. "Here you go."

Before taking the candy she looked to Poe for permission. He sighed in resignation and tousled her curls. "What d'you say, Bebe?" 

"Thank you, Mr. Finn." she mumbled quietly. Finn dropped the candy into her waiting palm and Poe set her down, shaking his head while he watched her unwrap it.

"Bribery, huh? That's one approach to childcare..."

"Used it on the little ones in the orphanage. Worked every time." Finn said proudly. "Taffy does the job well." 

Turns out Finn was right. The candy was sticky enough to keep Bebe quiet, so most of the walk home was silent aside from the smacking sound of her trying to pry taffy off of the roof of her mouth.

Poe didn't mind. It was nice just walking with Finn, holding his hand when the coast was clear, sneaking a kiss here and there. He could almost pretend they weren't in danger of being arrested for gross indecency. But that wasn't the only thing bothering him.

Every once in awhile Finn felt a need to slip into the back alleys, meeting up with the other two only when bright white picket fences and lush watered lawns devolved back into rusted chain mail and cracked concrete, when faces turned to him with accustomed indifference rather than fear and scorn.

He explained later that he'd had the police called on him more than a couple times simply for walking down a street, and it was becoming a nuisance being dragged down to the station house only for the chief to sigh and push him out the door half an hour later, reminding him not to be late for training.

During Finn's third disappearing act, a thought popped into Poe's head, something so absurd he laughed aloud, right there in the middle of the street. He ignored the stare from the blond wheeling her baby along in a befrilled carriage. Really, the idea was too funny.

What if, when Finn reappeared, what if Poe took his hand? What would happen if they kissed then and there, right under the nose of the bearded grandfather sitting on the porch across the road? Or if Finn scooped up Bebe and set her down on his shoulders like other fathers did, directly in view of the pink and white children playing in the yard, and the pale face of their mother peering out between starched lace curtains, what would happen then?

"Papá? What's funny?" Poe blinked and looked down at Bebe, who was tugging impatiently at his sleeve. Apparently she had finally managed to swallow the taffy.

"Nothing, Bebe." Poe caught sight of Finn, leaning up against the drug store down the block. Again the temptation to kiss him flickered through his mind, but Poe shook it off and gave Bebe's hand a squeeze. "Pick up your feet, sweetheart. I’m not liking the look of these clouds.”

 

\- ————————— -

 

“Finn, it's pouring. I can’t let you walk home in this. You'd better come in. It's a mess, just warning you.”

“Your definition of a mess or mine?” Finn asked, shaking the raindrops out of his hair. Poe rolled his eyes as he ushered his little herd inside, shutting the door just as the rain began to come down in earnest.

Their apartment was on the top floor, and by some unspoken convention between tenants, that meant that the roof of the building was their property as well. The three of them trundled up the well-worn mahogany stairs, meeting no one on their eight-storey trek. 

When they reached the eighth landing Poe unlocked a peeling green door and pushed Finn inside, staying in the doorway to help Bebe out of her jacket. The first thing Finn noticed was the guitar case sitting by the door beside a neat row of shoes. The small pair of kid boots was mended and polished, the big oxfords battered and stained.

As for the rest of the room everything was tidy, and even if the furniture was shabby and sparse, it was all so quaintly arranged that it gave the place a snug type of security. Finn liked it, the safety of rain glancing off thick windows, the jars of preserves lined up on the shelves, the taste of coffee hanging in the warm air. He could get used to a place like this.

"Where's the mess again?" Finn asked. Poe nodded at the mugs and plates sitting on the kitchen table, left over from what looked to be a hurried breakfast. "Oh, well, that's just inexcusable."

"We're just tidy. Isn't that right, Bebe?" Without answering the kid rushed off, dropping her backpack in the middle of the room along with her rain jacket a few steps later. "Well, some of us are…"

Poe stooped to gather up Bebe's things, shooting some rapid fire Spanish down the hall and getting what sounded like a rude response in return.

"She's a cute kid." Finn laughed. He bent down and wrapped his arms around Poe, who was rummaging around in Bebe’s schoolbag. He pulled out a half eaten sandwich and took a tired bite.

"Ain't she just?" He made a face as he tried to swallow around the dry lump of bread. “Make yourself at home.”

"I plan to." Finn assured him.

 

\- ————————— -

 

_The path was clouded with smoke, the air alive with shrieks. Blood tingled on his tongue and Poe coughed as he stumbled forward. He was following someone, that much he knew. He could catch glimpses of him in the breaks between the fog, the snatch of an olive coloured sleeve, broad shoulders carrying a charred pack. He couldn't lose him, but he couldn't keep up, either. No matter how hard he ran, how loud he yelled, the figure just kept moving, deeper into this hell of brimstone and steel. And Poe couldn't do anything to protect him._

 

\- ————————— -

 

When Poe jerked out of sleep he was curled up in a shivering ball, shirt soaked through with sweat and goosebumps crawling over his skin like ants. For awhile he didn’t open his eyes, fearing where he’d find himself if he did. His head hurt, throbbing with memories. A woman's wide eyes, smoke, bloodstained grass, and a promise, whispered in the dark.

"Finn." he breathed. He had to find him. They'd been separated, hadn't they? Over two years, and they hadn't seen each other...

No, wait, that wasn't right. Poe patted around the bed and realised that Finn had just rolled away. That wouldn’t have been a problem if he hadn’t brought the blankets with him.  

“Finn, _amor_ , I'm freezing…” Poe smacked Finn’s flank, sighing in relief when Finn grunted and shook off the blankets, wrapping himself around Poe instead. “Well, I guess this works too.” 

“I say it’s better.” Finn's breath was warm against the nape of Poe’s neck. “What time is it?”

“Three thirty. I’m going to check on Bebe. She wakes up sometimes, runs in without warning. I suggest covering yourself up."

“Come back quickly. I want to cuddle.” Finn murmured. Poe laughed and disentangled himself from Finn, whose eyes were already fluttering back shut.

He crept out of the room and down the hall, poking his head into the doorway of Bebe's room. She was lying facedown and Poe rolled her over as gently as he could. Her eyes stayed buttoned shut, and she barely stirred when he pecked her on the forehead and tucked the blankets snugly around her. Then he rested against the doorframe, watching the city lights flickering through her window shades.

He spent a few minutes just looking, wondering. About what he didn’t know. Her future, maybe, or the past that had led to her. He was pulled out of his musings by someone warm pressing against his back, arms squeezing his stomach.

“All serene?” Finn murmured against the back of Poe’s neck. Poe relaxed into his arms and closed his eyes, letting Finn take his weight, knowing that he’d be able to hold him up.

“Yeah. Sorry for waking you. I'll come back to bed in a minute."

"Alright." After Finn left Poe straightened up the room a bit, picking up fallen toys, hanging up discarded clothes. When he finally crept back into his bedroom Finn lifted the blankets and let him crawl inside. A smile spread across his face when Finn snuggled against his stomach, sucking at the softness, leaving some pretty memorable hickies in his wake.

“Alright, I get it. I’m old and fat. Thanks for the reminder…”

“So what? I love you for it.” Finn declared, crawling up to explode a kiss in Poe's ear.

"What?" Poe said softly. Finn rolled on top of Poe, holding himself up so they were nose to nose. Poe was blinking up at Finn's indistinct figure, trying to pick out the features, when rough hands, worker’s hands, made for lifting and hoisting and loading, cradled his face with feather softness, matched only by the kisses being pressed to his skin. 

"I love you, Poe Dameron." Finn said simply. The look on Poe's face seemed to make him happy. "You didn't know that?"

“I’ve had a lot on my mind, lately. l suppose I didn’t have a chance to notice.” He ran his fingers up the sharp contours of Finn’s neck and chest, softened and smoothed out by the moonlight. “Do you mean it?”

“Of course.” Finn promised against Poe's neck. "Forever and always."

“Oh..." The word was more sigh than sense. Poe wasn't known for being struck dumb, but right now he couldn't seem to find his voice. And by the time he did track it down Finn was asleep, and he'd lost his one chance. He sighed and ran his hands through Finn's hair, loving the roughness of it under his fingers. "For the record, I love you too.” he whispered as his eyes began to close. “I’ll tell you in the morning, I guess…”


	4. Williamsburg, 1946

"Papá?" Poe opened an eye to find Bebe a couple inches from his face, the plastic baby doll she had won at the fair a year ago clutched to her chest. All its hair was gone, and one of its eyes wouldn't open, but that didn't seem to bother her. "Papá, I want breakfast."

"Gimme a minute, Bebe..." he mumbled, snuggling deeper into the blankets. His bed was too warm and cosy to justify ever leaving. Inexplicably warm really, considering the broken radiator in the corner of his room. He should fix that, preferably before winter.

"Papá, you promised we'd make something special for breakfast today."

"Soon, sweetheart. But it's way too early to be up on a Saturday. Why don't you climb in here for a bit?" 

"It'll be too crowded." she told him, a pout twisting up her face. “And Finn took my spot."

"What?" Poe tried to get up and found himself being pulled back and squished against a sweaty, warm chest, snores rumbling against the nape of his neck. Oh, right, Finn was here. He was also rutting up against Poe's backside in a way that told Poe he was having a rather pleasant dream. Not a bad wake-up call, honestly. Poe almost smirked, then something clicked in his head and he almost cursed.

This was bad. His daughter was staring at him while Finn basically dry-humped him. He buried his face in his pillow and groaned. How had this happened? What had he done to deserve this? "How many times have I told you to knock when the door's closed?" he groaned. Bebe wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

"It wasn't closed. I'm gonna make pancakes.” she said suddenly. Before Poe could react she was out of the room and running at full sprint towards the kitchen.

"Whoa, whoa, slow down there-" But as he tried to leap out of bed he tripped on Finn, whose legs were tangled up with his. He squawked and grabbed Finn's arm but that only led to the both of them toppling over in a tangle of blankets and flailing limbs. 

When Poe's vision stopped swimming he realised he was lying on the floor with Finn's weight on his crotch. The guy still hadn't put his clothes on, and his morning wood was pressed against Poe's cock, the pressure just enough to be distracting through the fabric of his boxers. Under different circumstances Poe might have been perfectly content to explore the many directions this could go, but considering their current situation that would just be irresponsible parenting.

"Hullo." Finn deadpanned. Poe pushed him away and scrambled to his feet, slipping and sliding out the door. When he ran into the kitchen he damn near had a heart attack. Bebe was teetering on the counter, trying to reach the skillet on the top shelf. There were about fifty-seven ways that this could go wrong. Poe grabbed her around the waist, narrowly averting disaster when a box of tin cans toppled out of the cupboard and almost smacked her in the head.

He swore and jumped back with Bebe squirming in his arms and cans toppling all over the floor. He had to dance around a bit to avoid them and by the end of it one of his toes was bleeding and the tops of his feet were bruised black and blue. Boy, what a way to start the day. He glanced down at the cause of all his pain and suffering, who was still trying to worm her way out of his hold.

“Let’s you and me have a word.” he said darkly. Bebe snarled and flailed, so Poe tossed her over his shoulder and carried her across the room, ignoring the tiny fists pummelling his back. He sat her down on the kitchen table and flicked her on the nose to make her look at him. When she did he met her scowl with one of his own.

”You little troublemaker. What were you thinking? That's dangerous. Something could've fallen on you, you might've slipped. You could've hurt yourself. Do you understand?" Bebe stopped struggling when she heard Poe’s tone. He sounded more exasperated than angry, but how could Bebe tell the difference? Her chubby chin trembled and her mouth wobbled, tears collecting in her eyes.

”What'd I do wrong? Why’re you mad at me?” she demanded tearfully. "You promised we'd make somethin' last week and the week before and the week before that but then you went to work instead." She rubbed her eyes and sniffled. "And I'm sick of porridge, anyways."

All of a sudden Poe felt awful. The kid had just wanted pancakes for God’s sake. And how could he stay mad at that face? He hung his head and sighed. God, he was such a pushover. It was a disgrace to parenting.

“Alright, sweetheart. This was a lot to wake up to. Haven’t even had any coffee yet…” He smoothed down her curling hair, so much like his own. "I'm not mad, _cariño_ , got that? I'm not mad." Bebe nodded before promptly bursting into tears. Sighing, Poe scooped her up and settled down on the couch with her nestled against his chest. It was too early for this.

Finn, who had finally put some clothes on, found Poe a few minutes later, half asleep with Bebe still whimpering into the collar of his shirt. He clapped Poe on the shoulders, trying and failing to massage away the tension in his neck.

“What happened to your foot?” he asked. Poe just groaned and tilted his head back to scowl at him. “I'm sorry I asked. You should clean that cut. Don't worry, I'll take care of this.” he promised. Poe wasn’t sure what “this” was, but he needed all the help he could get if he was being completely honest with himself.

"Thanks, bab...buddy." he mumbled. Finn smirked and ran his fingers through Poe's bedhead before tugging gently at Bebe's curls.

"Say, Bebe, want to help me make the pancake batter?" he asked. Bebe peeked up at him, interested but wary. "You can put in whatever you like."

"Strawberry and caramel and chocolate?" She expected him to say no; you could see it in her eyes. Finn just grinned and shrugged.

"Sure, why not? Strawberry-caramel-chocolate pancakes it is." He scooped her up and tucked her under his arm, making her dissolve into a fit of giggles. "Your dad'll catch up with us eventually. He's an old man, so give him some time."

"You're a jerk..." Poe called lazily over his shoulder.

"Right back at you." Finn laughed. Poe rolled off of the couch and limped over to the bathroom, smiling when he heard Bebe trying to convince Finn they should add in a box of cake mix to the pancakes.

 

\- ————————— -

 

"When are you marrying Papá?" Bebe asked, tugging at Finn's sleeve. Across the table, Poe choked and almost spilt coffee all over his lap. Most of it splashed onto his pancakes, and Finn wordlessly traded them out for his while Poe coughed.

“Thanks.” he managed. He cleared his throat and turned to shake his head at Bebe. ”Hold your horses, kiddo. Finn and me are friends."

“But whenever Uncle Snap comes over you make him sleep on the couch.” she countered as she clambered into Poe’s lap. “He's your friend. What makes Finn different?"

Poe stared at Finn, willing an answer out of him, but he was suddenly preoccupied with drawing pictures in the syrup on his plate. Poe was on his own on this one. He blinked down at Bebe, grabbing hold of the first fib that came to mind.

“He’s scared of the dark." Poe blurted out. "That’s why he was in my room. He was sleeping in the living room but then he got frightened. So don’t tell anyone, alright? That would embarrass him, and you wouldn’t want to do that, right?” He poked a spoonful of whipped cream into Bebe’s mouth and arched an eyebrow at Finn, who looked like he was about to burst out laughing. “Right?”

“Yes, Papá.” Bebe mumbled around the spoon. Poe wiped the crumbs off of her cheeks while she tried to squirm out of his grasp. “Can I go outside now?”

“Wash your face, first. You can take a quarter from the jar on the counter. But don't spend it on candy. It's always stale."

“Yes, Papá. Bye, Finn. Thank you for breakfast.”

"Anytime, kiddo." He saw her out the door, helping her with the latch that was just a little too high. When he went back inside Poe was washing the dishes. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, hands occupied in scouring away the flecks of grease clinging to a black frying pan, his hips shifting to a rhythm only he could hear. He was always doing that and Finn didn’t get it. “So, when are we getting married?” he asked. Poe rolled his eyes and dried off his hands.

“When you don’t have to sit in the back of the trolley and when I can’t get jailed for gross indecency. So, you know, never.”

“Never ever?” Finn whined, wrapping his arms around Poe’s waist and burying his face in his neck. “Well, that blows. So what do we do now?”

“That’s really up to you, _amor_.” Poe pulled Finn’s glasses off and kissed the bridge of his nose. “What do you want to do?” Finn shrugged and slid a hand up Poe's shirt.

“I don't know. Something productive.”

 

\- ————————— -

 

Finn had a pretty long list of things he thought he’d never be able to do. Called it his “fuck it” list. It was all pretty standard fare, really. Climb Mt. Everest, go to an Ivy League College, visit France when it wasn’t a war-zone, curl up in bed and sketch the love of his life on the back of a discarded grocery list…

No, wait, scratch that last one. Finn glanced down at Poe, sound asleep, stretched out on his side with the sheets tangled up in his legs and the mid-afternoon sun spilling over his face and chest, his breath coming in sated, quiet snores. Finn tucked a stray curl back into place and tried to concentrate on the drawing around the wobbly warm feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Well, that was one item off the list, only a few hundred more to go. Poe mumbled something in his sleep and Finn leant forward, waking him up with a kiss.

“G’morning…” Poe slurred once Finn pulled away. He tapped the dented yellow alarm clock sitting on the bedside table and Poe sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Well, good two-ish in the afternoon, then. Did Bebe come up?”

“Gave her a snack and sent her on her way. Said you’d stepped out to run some errands.”

“Clever boy…” Poe glanced at the book Finn had balanced on his knee. “What’re you up to?”

“None of your beeswax. And stay still.” He shoved Poe back into the blankets, making him grin when he realised what was going on.

“A portrait, huh? Never seen the artist at work. I guess this makes me your Salaì.”

“Who?” Poe barely managed to not jump up at the opportunity to educate Finn on useless history facts, but just barely.

“Salaì? Da Vinci’s lover, the model for St. John the Baptist and arguably the Mona Lisa?” Finn stared at him blankly and Poe rolled his eyes in exasperation. “You know what? You're a lost cause. Have you ever been to a museum? The Met ran an exhibit on Da Vinci once. Bebe went with her mother when she was just a baby."

“Bebe has a mother? I always figured you had found her in a cabbage patch.” Poe snorted and Finn cracked a grin. "So am I allowed to ask about her, or..."

"Her name was Maria." Finn nodded, but Poe snorted and looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. “Oh, you want the whole story, don't you? Well, we were neighbours, worked across the street from each other, took the same trolley. It got so I'd always be the one walking her home, taking her dancing. I s'pose I was fond of her, hoped I'd fall for her, eventually. That's not what happened. Instead, Bebe happened.” Finn readjusted Poe’s arm, back to the way it had been when he’d woken up. “We got married because that’s the way it is. You spend a couple years unconsciously “courting”, and eventually, it would just be improper not to marry her.”

“And then?” Finn prompted. Poe sighed and rested against the pillows, watching Finn’s pencil travel across the page with decisive precision.

“And then? Well, and then the war happened. You know how that went. I join up with Ben, and we each get a slip of paper that gives us a dock and a date. We're basically counting down the weeks 'till Doomsday, so we get a little reckless.” he laughed softly and shook his head, probably remembering some questionable shenanigans.

"I can only imagine what you got up to." Finn shook his head and clucked his tongue in mock disapproval. "And then?"

“Well, I come home the day before I get shipped off and Maria’s sitting at the kitchen table, fingers jittering on some chipped chinaware that was her mother’s. She’s all worked up about something, but I dunno what. I sit, she stands. I follow her into the bedroom and she tells me she’s “that way” and I swear Finn, you could’ve knocked me over with a feather.”

"Immaculate conception, I guess."

“If only. Remember the shenanigans I was talking about? I seem to remember drinking myself into a stupor, one night. She was stone cold sober, though. She asked me to sleep with her. Two years in and we never…” Poe shrugged and picked at the embroidered slip of the pillowcase. “So I must’ve figured, what the hell? Let’s go for it. We were man and wife, anyways. And I was about to leave for who knows what, who knows where. May as well do it with a woman before I die. I don’t know whether I regret it or not. I mean…” he shook his head and sighed. “It’s funny, really. I wasn’t there when Bebe was born. I didn’t see her take her first steps. I didn’t see her baptism. She didn’t see my face until she was three years old, but when we met, it was as though she knew me better than Maria ever did.”

“Were you happy together?” Finn asked absently. He was paying more attention to his drawing, trying to catch the way the light and shadows danced across the shifting muscles in Poe’s arms. He bit the end of his pencil and shrugged, scowling at his sketch. “You may not have been head over heels, but I mean, you must’ve enjoyed each other’s company, right?”

“Well, I might have learnt to, but…” Poe sighed and stared up at Finn for a bit, chin resting on his entwined fingers. Then he kicked off the blankets and pushed Finn’s hands away from his work, kissing him down into the blankets.

“I’m not done drawing…” Finn complained as Poe got on top of him. He wrapped his legs around Poe’s waist and his arms around Poe’s shoulders, breath hitching when a hand smoothed down his inner thigh.

“We’ve got time.” Poe insisted, dragging a kiss up Finn’s neck. Finn sighed when Poe's hands travelled down his body, opening up under the firm, easy touch. “All the time in the world.”

 

\- ————————— -

 

"Hey, Poe, not to be rude but what the heck is that?" Poe scowled and peeled off his apron, speckled with flour and jam and questionable burns. He tossed it at Finn, who laughed and tied it around his neck like a cape.

"I can't cook. I'm a disgrace to the family name." Poe sighed. He was staring regretfully at the pie he had just pulled out of the oven. It wasn't so much a pie as a lump of charcoal, truth be told.

"No one ever taught you?" Finn asked as he cleared the dinner plates from the table.

"They tried to teach me. I say any different and my abuela’s ghost will appear and crack open my head with a wooden spoon." He sighed and dug into the middle of the pie with a fork, getting to the unburnt jam at the very middle. He offered it to Finn, who wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "Rude son of a bitch."

Finn laughed as Poe settled down at the table with the pie tin, picking and poking at the bits that weren't too burnt. "C'mon out, Bebe, you're gonna be late." he called absently. Bebe yelled something back in Spanish and Poe rolled his eyes, scraping the bottom of the pan for the dough that hadn't cooked all the way through. "You look fine, sweetheart. And don't give me that look."

"How d'you know what sorta look I'm giving?" Bebe asked as she stomped into the kitchen, picking and pulling at the dress Poe had cajoled her into wearing. Her overalls were still slung over her shoulder, though.

"Because dads have super powers. C'mon, sweetheart, hand 'em over. You can put 'em back on when you get back." Begrudgingly, Bebe let Poe take away her precious overalls, watching as he tossed them carelessly onto the kitchen table. The nerve of some people.

"I don't see why I gotta wear this..." she sulked. Poe rolled his eyes and tied up her hair in a blue bow.

"Humour me, would you? Besides, Mrs Salter would have a conniption if you walked in looking like you usually do."

"Where's she off to?" Finn asked.

“Williamsburg. She's got an art class.” Poe handed Bebe a dollar and adjusted the collar of her dress. “The teacher’s this sweet old lady who I’m pretty sure lives off what her students give her. She tried to teach me when I was a kid, so I have to apologise somehow. I do feel bad about the dress, sweetheart." he added to Bebe. "But you know your teacher's old fashioned."

“I’ll take her there.” Finn offered. “You can stick around and do damage control on the kitchen,” he added, glancing at the fine dust of flour coating every flat surface. Poe grinned and, after making sure Bebe has stalked into the other room, kissed Finn on the cheek.

“What’d I do to deserve you?” he whispered in Finn's ear. Finn shrugged and wrapped his arms around Poe's waist in a bear hug.

“That’s a good question.” Poe rolled his eyes and tried to pull away, but Finn pushed him up against the wall and nuzzled against his neck, undeterred by the fact that Bebe was a little over ten feet away.

“Finn you idiot she's going to see us-" Finn silenced Poe with one more kiss before trotting out of the room, laughing like a maniac. "You son of a..."

"Language." Finn chided. Poe smirked and rested against the counter, listening to Finn helping Bebe tie her shoes. "Your dad may be a pilot, but he's got a sailor's tongue..."

"Stop slandering me to my own kid." Poe called over to them.

"What does slandering mean?" That was Bebe, probably tugging at Finn's arm in that way she had.

"It means you're in politics. Bye, Poe. Don't burn down the building while we're gone."

 

\- ————————— -

 

After kaleidoscoping from blue to yellow the sky had gone lavender, soft and kind of fluffy. Only word Finn could think of to describe it. He'd been sitting in the same spot for an hour, and he had to admit, he was beginning to understand why old people did this so often.

"Finn!" He looked up from his sketchpad and grinned, watching Bebe prance across the street, a cloth-wrapped package clutched to her chest. Her dress was still pristine, but her hands and face were splattered with drying paint.

“Hey, Bebe. What d’you have there?” She pulled the bundle closer and shook her head, her eyes sparkling with pride.

"It's a gift for Papá. Can we go to the playground?” she asked suddenly. Everything was sudden with this kid. "Please? I'll show you if we go." Finn rolled his eyes and grinned at Bebe.

"Hm, I don't know. Your dress will get all dirty..." Right before Bebe's face fell Finn pulled her overalls out of his satchel. "Good thing I have these, then."

When they got to the park it was empty, as it usually is at eight at night. The sun was just beginning to set, painting everything in a warm yellow light. Finn released Bebe onto the playground and plopped himself down on a rickety green bench, wondering at the infinite energy the kid kept stored somewhere in her tiny frame.

While she was swinging her way across the monkey bars for the eighth time he unwrapped the canvas, taking special care not to rip anything. It was a small portrait, three roughly outlined people, all lopsided faces and creative proportions, but nonetheless, not bad for a five-year-old. Bebe ran up to him when she saw he was looking at her painting. She hadn't tired herself out yet; if anything she was even more excitable.

"It's very good. Who's in it?" She hopped up beside him and leant against his arm, reaching out and pressing her paint-stained finger to the canvas.

"That's Papá, that's me, and that's Mamá. Mamá’s got wings 'cause she's up in Heaven with the angels. She went there when I was two.” Her explanation seemed to have exhausted her the most out of everything else she'd done. Bebe went quiet for a bit, kicking her legs back and forth. Suddenly she looked up at Finn with her little face all creased up from worry. “Do you like me, Finn?”

Finn looked away from the drawing and smiled down at her. “We just met, but I think I do. And your dad loves you very much.” he assured her.

“Really? ‘Cause I think maybe Mamá left ‘cause she didn’t like me. Papá don’t talk about her much.” Bebe sighed. Could five-year-olds sound wistful? This one sure did. “I remember her a little bit. Not a lot. She told good bedtime stories, and she never forgot to check under the bed for monsters. She also cooked a whole lot better than Papá does but don’t tell him that ‘cause I don’t want his feelings to get hurt. But she never made Papá laugh ’till he cried like you can, and when Papá smiled at her it wasn’t like when you smile at him.” She looked up at Finn, a thoughtful glint in her eyes. “You look at him like you're worried you'll never get to look at him again.”

"Your dad and me are friends, Bebe." Finn told her. Bebe just shook her head at him, as though he were the child and she was the wise adult who knew the ways of the world.

"Mamá and Papá were friends. You and him are something else. Like Snow White and her prince in the movie that Papá brought me to last year. Are you Papá's prince, Finn?"

Finn blinked at Bebe, who was staring at him with a steady, expectant gaze. How do you answer a question like that? By avoiding it, that's how. “Do you want to go on the swing? I’ll push you.” he offered. The philosophical expression melted off of Bebe’s face and she practically squealed.

“Can you push me real high?”

“Real high.” Finn assured her as she hopped up onto the seat. He grabbed the chains and pulled back. "How high d'you want?"

“I wanna go as high as Papá does when he goes up in the planes. He’s gonna teach me when I’m big enough.”

“Really? If you’re anything like him you’ll be a great pilot.”

“You think so?” Finn could hear the wide-eyed wonder in her voice, bubbling with anticipation and excitement and yeah, maybe a little fear. He lifted her up, as close to the pink and yellow sky as he could get her.

“I know so. Hold on tight.”

 

\- ————————— -

 

Finn closed the front door softly, Bebe barely stirring in his arms. Halfway home she had decided that the curb would be a great place for a nap. Finn had disagreed, but Bebe had ignored him skillfully. In the end, he'd had to scoop her up and carry her the rest of the way home. He wasn't ruling out the possibility that this had been her plan since the beginning.

He pulled off her shoes and settled her down on the couch with a few blankets and throw pillows. For good measure he tossed his aviator jacket over her as well. He could hear splashes coming from the bathroom so he crept away, carefully navigating the squeaky hardwood floor. Safely across the room, he pushed the bathroom door open and stuck his head inside, wrinkling his nose when steam fogged up his glasses.

“Hi there, lover.” Poe laughed. When Finn stepped inside he had to suppress a giggle. Poe was sitting in the overflowing tub and pushing a rubber duck across the filmy surface of the water, shiny with some type of sweet-smelling oil.

"You never struck me as the type to spend all evening in the bath…" Finn scooped up a pink bottle lying on the counter and sniffed it. "Is this rosewater?"

"Let me indulge." Poe splashed a little water at Finn, getting a drop or two on his trousers. "Did Bebe behave herself?"

"She was a little angel." Finn assured him as he pulled a clean towel off of the rack. Poe tilted his head forward and Finn rubbed his hair dry before pulling him to his feet and wrapping the towel around his waist. He smelled like Life Buoy soap and the aforementioned roses, just shy of ladylike. It was a nice change from old leather and burning fuel. "She's fallen asleep, by the way. I put her on the couch."

"I'll tuck her in."

"You might want to put some clothes on first, Flyboy."

"I think that's the first time you've said that to me..."

"Yeah? Hopefully, it'll be the last."

Once Bebe was tucked in they climbed into bed together, Finn's head nestled in the crook of Poe's neck, Poe's arm secure around his shoulders. "Thanks for taking care of her." he murmured into Finn's hair.

"Don't mention it." Finn kissed the scar on Poe's cheek and held up the painting Bebe had entrusted him with. "By the way, she wanted me to give you this." Poe's face lit up when he unwrapped the painting, looking about as proud as Bebe herself.

"She's finally finished? She's been working on it for ages..." He traced the crude outlines of Maria's wings, the golden halo splashed behind her head. He set the canvas down on the bedside table and smiled at Finn. There was something sad in his smile, but neither of them felt like dwelling on it.

"Can I fix your hair?" Finn asked, tugging at the damp curls plastered to Poe's forehead. Poe laughed and shrugged, settling back against the pillows.

"Only if you promise to make me pretty."

Any gravitas was forgotten over the next half hour. Finn tried every hairstyle he knew; parting it in the middle, slicking it all back, making it stand straight up with copious amounts of gel, before deciding on a wavy left part. It was a bit of a Clark Gable look, Finn realised as he sat back to admire his work. Poe looked all set to strut into the Ritz or a movie premiere, sweep any and all off of their feet with nothing but that debonair smile and the arch of an eyebrow. Just dress him up in a tuxedo, hand him a cocktail, and place a woman at his elbow; he'd fit in seamlessly with the best of them. And he knew it.

“So, how do I look?” Poe asked expectantly. Finn pursed his lips, pretending to be undecided. Finally, he nodded and kissed the tip of Poe's nose.

“You’d make it in Tinseltown.” was his satisfying conclusion. He pushed a stray curl away from Poe’s forehead and stood, pushing open the window and climbing out onto the fire escape. “I should get going.”

"I'll walk you out." Poe offered. Finn shook his head and clambered over the railing, swinging back and forth on the ladder as Poe climbed out after him. "Why not?"

“Your neighbours are out and about. I wouldn't risk it. I’ll take this way. It’s no trouble.” Poe nodded, but the look on his face was almost pained. “What is it?”

“I hate hiding you.” Poe mumbled. Finn’s face softened and he pulled Poe into a kiss, slow and soft and gentle. And confident. As though this was normal, as though it was safe to be in love. When he pulled away Poe opened his eyes to find that the sky was dimpled with stars, which should have been impossible in the light the city gave off. Windows, he remembered. Little points of light scattered all around them, like squinting, prying eyes. He jerked back, his head whipping around in quiet panic. Someone must have seen them. But Finn just laughed and rested a hand on his arm, shaking his head.

“There’s no one around. I did recon.” he reassured him. Poe relaxed and smiled, running a hand over Finn's arms.

“I trust those skills.” Finn smiled back and tugged gently at Poe’s curls, gently shaking his head back and forth.

“I know you do, flyboy. They’re why the both of us are still here, aren’t they?”

“Somebody’s cocky.” Poe gripped Finn’s collar and pulled him into another kiss, trying to take him down a peg. He succeeded, enough so that when he pulled away Finn came with him and their foreheads stayed pressed together. Finn wasn’t ready to let go quite yet. Neither was Poe if he was being completely honest. “Sweetheart, we’ll see each other soon.”

“When's soon? Monday?” Finn grinned at Poe, adoration glowing in his eyes. Even if Poe had been thinking of saying no, he would have found himself incapable of doing so.

"Yeah, alright, Monday works." Smiling, Finn kissed Poe on the cheek and dropped down the ladder. Poe's eyes widened and he scrambled to lean out over the edge of the fire escape, waiting for a gruesome splat. Instead, he just heard a solid thud and the warmth of Finn's laughter, bright and musical in the light of the streetlamps. He watched him wander backwards down the alleyway, grin wide enough that Poe could see it from the balcony. Poe shook his head and sighed, then he remembered he had something to tell Finn. What was it? He was sure it had been important...

Oh, right.

“I love you!” Poe called out into the street. Finn's mouth dropped in a perfect "o", and if his face could have gone white as a sheet it would have. But Poe was sure they were okay. It was dark, and besides, Poe could be talking to a woman, he could be drunk, he could just be kidding around. There were a million ways to hide the fact that the man was in love.

When Finn got ahold of himself he laughed and saluted at Poe, turning on his heel and skipping down the street. Once he was out of sight Poe shook his head again and climbed back inside, leaning back against the wall and letting out a deep breath.

“I love you.” he repeated for his own benefit. It felt good to say it out loud, but at the same time, it was terrifying. Why did loving someone have to be terrifying?


	5. Columbus Circle, 1946

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Head's up for the racial slurs in this chapter, plus some PTSD. It hasn't been Finn's day, is all I'm saying.

 Another two months went by, and before anyone knew what happened summer had moved into New York and made itself comfortable. The streets were sticky with heat, the air heavy with moisture. School was done with and after a brief period of euphoria, kids settled down to being restless and sluggish. They hung around on street corners and ran through alleys in packs, whooping and hollering fit to raise the dead before collapsing in sticky heaps on doorsteps, only to be chased off by frazzled tenants who were sick of brats cluttering up their front door. Yes, summer was something to look forward to. 

 Halfway through July, Finn was walking down the street with Bebe holding onto his hand. She was singing a song about a cow and the moon and a cat that could play the fiddle as they wandered around town looking for a pizza place Rey had recommended awhile back. Poe had fixed them sandwiches, but after taking one bite Bebe refused to eat hers. Finn felt bad but he couldn’t really blame her. Although if they didn’t stumble on the place soon he might get desperate enough to consider actually eating his.

 Their search had taken them to a nicer part of town, the quiet streets lined with charming redbricks and brownstones that only had one family living in them. As an added benefit there was a park in the middle of the neighbourhood, the pristine playground crawling with equally well-kept children. As Finn watched a little girl leapt off of the swings, stumbled on the landing, regained her equilibrium, and ran up to the fence, chanting Bebe’s name. Bebe smiled ear-to-ear, wider than she had since she lost her front tooth a few weeks ago. Poe swore it would grow back but she remained unconvinced.   

“Alice!” she called out. She shook off Finn’s hand and ran ahead of him, over to the little girl with brassy corkscrew curls and a wide mouth who had run up to the gate to meet her. After a split second exchange, the two of them squealed and rushed back onto the playground in a giggling flurry of pleated skirts and scrapped knees.

Finn was about to follow but he paused at the fence and the smile faded off of his face. The park was all white women and their children, and one or two of them were already watching him, eyes slanted and suspicious. He sighed and stepped back, crossing the street and plonking himself down on the stoop of a closed shop. Okay, this wouldn’t be the first time he had to sit out. 

It wasn’t too bad, he convinced himself as he settled down on the sun-warmed concrete. After all, beats sitting in the trenches. He was watching Bebe jump rope and gnawing tentatively on a sandwich when he felt something jab into his ribs. He swallowed the burnt bit of crust he’d been struggling with and turned to see a man with a cane in one hand and a pistol-shaped bulge in his coat. He was enjoying his right to bear arms more than he probably should have.

“What are you up to, nigger?” Finn raised his eyebrows but said nothing, looking the man up and down. Poe’s age, sharply dressed, gripping the silver head of a polished cane in his lily-white hand while the other was inside his coat, clutching what must be a high-quality pistol. He reeked of Ivy League colleges and expensive cologne. Not entirely worthless, though. He had done his time in France if that limp was anything to go by. Finn figured a bit of shrapnel had severed a tendon or two in his ankle. “Are you dumb as well as ugly? I asked you a question. What do you think you’re doing out of Niggerville?” 

Finn sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, glancing warily at the park. Now was not the time to make a scene. As much as he’d like to run this guy down to the station for a good talking-to, he just couldn’t do that out of uniform. With the peaked cap on his head and the badge displayed proudly on his chest he was an officer of the law, maybe not one people were ready to respect, but holding enough authority that his actions wouldn’t be openly questioned.

But today, in one of Poe’s rumpled tropical shirts and an old pair of unironed work trousers, he may as well be the dirt under this guy’s oxfords. But the badge usually made an impression. Finn pulled it out of his pocket and held it up, the silver lettering glinting in the sun and making the guy squint. 

“I think you’ll find I have as much right to be here as you do.” he said calmly. “Sir, I’m going to ask you not to make a scene, seeing as there are women and children about. Put your weapon back in its holster before someone is startled.”

“What if I feel threatened? I’m in the presence of a thief, after all. Who did you pinch that badge from?” he demanded, the colour rising in his cheeks. “I ought to call the cops on you, coon.”

 Finn’s eye didn’t even flicker. “I assure you, that would be redundant. Since it appears you didn’t hear me the first time I’ll ask you once more. Put your weapon back in its holster and move along.”

 “Make me, nigger.” he snarled. Finn took a deep breath and tightened his grip on his knee. This guy had better like the taste of concrete. But just when Finn was resolved to slam his ugly mug into the ground he felt a tiny hand gripping his wrist.

 “Finn?” Bebe had appeared at his elbow, eyes wide and mouth set. Looking at her the man wrinkled his nose, disgust written on his face.  He wasn't one for the mixing of the races, obviously. 

 “You got yourself a coon-baby?” he sneered. 

 “You’re not supposed to use that word.” Bebe told him before Finn could pull her back. The man's face twisted into an even uglier snarl, contorted into a caricature of itself. He made to move towards her, but Finn got there first. 

 “Take one more step and see what happens.” he warned. Something in his voice made the man hesitate. Finn took advantage of his indecision and pushed Bebe out of harm's way. “Good choice. Move along, now.”

 The man spat at Finn’s feet before shoving his gun under his jacket and hobbling away. Finn sat down again and watched him go, only looking away after he turned the corner and the clip-clop of his cane faded away. He noticed a throbbing in his fingertips and looked down. Bebe was gripping his hand so tightly her knuckles had turned white. When she saw he was looking she let go and tugged at the bottom of his shirt. 

 “Finn? What did he want?”

 “Nothing, Bebe. Just ignore him. You done playing with Alice?” She ignored his attempt at normalcy and climbed into his lap, pressing her face into his neck. "Is that a yes, or..."

 “You’re a police officer. Why didn’t you hit him, Finn?” she demanded. Finn sighed and shook his head. Any explanation he could offer up wouldn't be enough. If he told her that a black man arresting a white man usually ended badly for the guy in uniform, she'd just ask why again and they'd be back to square one. So it was simpler to just make it sound as though it was his idea to let the son of a bitch walk away.

 “Pick your battles, Bebe. If I arrested everyone who annoyed me the city would be a pretty quiet place.” She nodded and hushed up, but her face was scrunched with concern. “What’s the matter?”

 “He looked like he was gonna hurt you.” she said tremulously. The poor kid sounded terrified for him. “He was pointing a gun at you.”

 “Hey, kiddo, it’s alright…” Finn ruffled her hair and scooped her up, tickling her sides in an attempt to make her laugh. It worked, but only a little bit. “Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself. Y’know, I think Rey got the address of the pizza place mixed up. You want ice cream instead?”

 “That’s a dessert, not lunch.”

 “Does it matter? It’s all food.” he lowered his voice to a confidential whisper. “Don’t tell your dad, but I once ate nothing but jelly beans for a whole week.” What he didn’t tell her was that he was between jobs and since the stuff came in bulk bags, twenty-five cents a sack, he figured it was better than starving. That would have taken the fun out of the story. 

 “I wish I could do that. But Papa says he wants me to live 'till I'm a hundred and one, and he says I gotta eat healthy if I'm gonna do that.”

 “If you really feel guilty, you could eat the sandwich he made and then have ice cream for dessert.” And then, with a touch of hesitation. “I’ll eat mine too.”

 "Pinky swear?" she held out her pinky, half hoping he would decline. 

 "...Pinky swear." With the contract sealed he grinned and ruffled Bebe's hair. "If you eat my sandwich as well I'll let you get a double scoop." Bebe shook her head and stuck out her tongue at him. "Well, it was worth a shot..." 

 

\- ————————— -

 

“Really? You’ve had it for two seconds and you’re already covered in it…” Finn shook his head and wiped Bebe’s face, sticky with double chocolate chip and rocky road. He grabbed her hand and led her across the street and set himself down on a bench underneath a stately oak tree. She hopped up beside him and grinned first at her ice cream, and then at Finn. “Is it good?”

 “Yup. What’d you get?”

 “Pistachio.”

 “What’s that?”

 “It’s a type of nut.”

 “Who puts nuts in ice cream?” she asked incredulously.

 “Nuts aren’t that strange a thing to put in ice cream. Chocolate comes from beans, you know. You’re eating bean ice cream.” Finn teased. 

 “Am not!”

 “Are too.” 

 “Am not.” she insisted sullenly. For whatever reason, she had become pensive, nibbling away at the edge of her cone with studied intent. After a moment, she had a breakthrough and had to share it with Finn. “That guy with the gun wasn’t nice.” she told him. Finn snorted and licked the ice cream that was beginning to drip onto his hand.

 “Yeah?”

 “Yeah. It makes sense that he was mean to you, ‘cause he looks like someone who’s mean to everyone."

 "He was pretty unpleasant." Finn agreed. Bebe nudged his elbow and they traded cones, even though Finn warned her that she might not like pistachio. After a tentative lick, she wrinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue, handing it over with disdain. "You could just say no. No need for theatrics." She just stuck out her tongue again and launched back into her previous train of thought.

"But what’s confusing me is how I know a lot of nice people who act like him. They’re nice to everybody else, but they don’t like you. But you’re nice too, so I don’t get it. Like Alice’s ma at the park. She walked up to me and asked if you were hurting me, if Papá knew I was with you, all sorts of stuff. Nobody ever asks that many questions when I’m with Uncle Ben, and he looks meaner than you ‘cause of that scar on his face. He’s nice, but he looks mean. You’re nice, and you look nice, so I don’t…” She sucked on her thumb and shrugged in hopeless confusion. “What makes you different?” 

It was a terrible question that Finn was faced with. How to explain the ugliness of human nature to a five-year-old with scrapes on her knees and ice cream in her hair? Finn didn’t know, but it looked like the task had fallen to him anyways.

“Look, Bebe.” He extended his hand, palm down. “What colour is my skin?” Bebe grabbed his wrist, tracing the scars on his knuckles with her sticky fingers.

“Coffee colour.” she said innocently. Finn smiled and ruffled her hair. Of course, Poe had raised a colour-blind kid.

“Something like that. And what colour is Ben's skin?" 

"Pale?" she said slowly. And then the realisation struck. "Is that why? It's because you're different colours?" She wrinkled her nose and shook her head in derision. ”That's silly."

"People can be silly." Finn admitted.

“How come?”

“If I tried to explain we’d be here all day. But people don't always understand when something's different from them. And they hate not understanding, so they hate what's different by extension.” 

“Is that why people call Papá names sometimes?” Bebe asked. Finn bit his lip and nodded. It wasn't just names, though. People could do worse things. He'd once had to stitch Poe up after some punk had decided to, as he had put it, "gank the spic". Finn had been enraged but not surprised. This hatred wasn't new to him, if anything it was part of him, festering in the back of his mind. It was, however, uncharted territory for poor Bebe. She looked up at him now, pain and knowledge mingled in her eyes. “Finn, why do people use those names?”

“They’re meant to hurt people who they think are different. And Bebe, that’s the lowest type of insult, because you’re making fun of something the person can’t change.” Bebe nodded and rested her chin in the palm of her hand, deep in contemplation.

“Then why do people do it?"

“Because that’s the easiest way to control someone, I suppose. It’s the easiest way to make someone dislike themselves.” More than dislike actually. Hate was more accurate. Hate what a worthless piece of trash he was, how his best was nothing and his worst was all he was. 

"That's not right." Finn heard Bebe say quietly. He sighed and licked at his melting cone. You said it, kid. He ruffled her hair and smiled at her, waiting until she smiled back. It didn't take long. What could he say? The kid bounced back like a rubber ball.

“You're too young to be worrying about this, kiddo. Hey, your dad gets off work in a bit. We should get going.” He scooped her off of the bench and grunted. “Gosh, you’re getting heavy.”

“I grew three inches since last fall.” she told him, her face glowing with pride. She handed him what was left of her cone and squirmed to get down.

“I can believe it.” He set her on the ground and she ran ahead of him, hair bouncy around her shoulders, dimpled legs a blur of striped blue and white stockings, carefree and happy and innocent, everything Finn wanted to protect. 

 

\- ————————— -

 

"We're gonna surprise your dad. You be quiet, got that?" Bebe nodded and saluted, a trick she'd picked up from Rey. "At ease, soldier. Follow my lead."

They crept into the hangar together, Bebe clinging to Finn's hand, waiting for instruction. Once his eyes had adjusted to the low light he was able to make out the scene. Poe was underneath the belly of a P-51 Mustang, fiddling with the wiring and chatting with Ben, who was tinkering with the controls in the cockpit.

“…All I’m saying is that the laminar flow wing isn’t exactly top notch. Ever tried out-turning an FW 190 in one of these things? Ain’t gonna happen.” 

“Maybe, but try flying with damage in a Spitfire. Your ass is going down before you can say fuel leak.” Ben pointed out. He nodded at Finn and Bebe, smirking when the two of them snuck up behind Poe. Finn pulled off the jacket and motioned for Bebe to stand where Poe's stomach would be when he rolled out. 

“Well, if you’re not me, that is.” Poe bragged. Finn rolled his eyes and glanced at Ben, who got the hint.

"Hey, Poe, you got an extra screw?" he asked innocently. Poe had no way of knowing that this would be his undoing. When he rolled out from underneath the plane Bebe hopped on top of him with a squeal while Finn smothered him with the jacket, letting loose a frightful war cry. Poe yelped in surprise and struggled for a bit before going limp under them, a screwdriver clattering dramatically out of his hand. As added effect, when Finn pulled off the jacket Poe's eyes were closed and his head was lolling at a precarious angle, twitching once or twice before flopping down with definite finality.

Bebe blinked and looked up at Finn in horror. She seemed convinced that she had helped murder her father. But just as the terror seemed to peak he revived, grabbing Bebe around the middle and tickling her into submission. "You jerks..." he laughed. He pulled Bebe close and kissed the top of her head. "I nearly spilt oil on myself."

"Aw, poor baby." Finn teased. Behind him, the hangar door creaked open and Poe pulled Bebe back as Rey taxied the Falcon into the hangar. When she hopped out Bebe ran to her, arms outstretched.

“Hi, beautiful.” she laughed and scooped Bebe up in her arms. “You’ve grown.”

“Three inches.” Finn supplied. Rey turned to him with a grin on her face.

“Officer.” She pulled off her goggles and put them on Bebe’s forehead. “You two want to go for a spin?”

“In this bucket of bolts? Not for a million dollars.” Finn eyed the relic of a biplane suspiciously. The Falcon had started out as a standard Curtiss JN-4, then Han and his copilot had gotten their hands on it, made some “improvements”. Finn was pretty sure the damn thing was held together with duct tape and willpower. “Even Poe knows better than to fly this thing.”

“You underestimate how stupid I am.” Finn turned around to find Poe was standing behind him, grinning as he wiped the engine grease off of his hands. Rey passed Bebe to him and he kissed the kid loudly on the cheek, making her giggle. “I’ve flown that baby while I was drunk as a skunk. Ben can vouch for me.” 

“That was the day I stopped being his copilot.” Ben hopped out of the cockpit and made his way over to them. He plucked Bebe out of Poe's arms with ease and slung her over his shoulder as though she were a giggly sack of potatoes. “Rey, I’m clocking it in for the day. You?”

"Likewise. You’re staying with us, Bebe," she added to the little figure who had propped herself up on her elbows on Ben's shoulder. "I’m baking a lemon cake. Remember the one you had on your birthday?”

“I like that cake. Can you teach Papá how to make it sometime?”

“We have tried. Lord knows we have all tried. When Mom gives up, you know it’s a lost cause.” Rey kissed Finn on the cheek, before running off to join her brother. “By the way, happy birthday, Finn.” she called from the door. "The pilot's got something special planned for you." she added cryptically as she shut the door.

“Happy…” Finn's eyes widened and he glanced at Poe in surprise. “Oh, I completely forgot about that.”

“Figured you would, angel. Makes surprising you a whole lot easier. So, surprise! We’re going on an adventure.”

“Where to?”

“Upstate.” he grabbed two helmets off of the worktable and tossed one at Finn. “Hey, how much do you trust Bumper?” Finn puffed out his cheeks and sighed. Bumper was the name of the motorcycle Rey had built a couple years back. Finn personally called it Accident Waiting to Happen. Maybe it was because the thing was partially built from parts of a Spitfire, maybe it was because Rey drove like a madman, or maybe he just preferred vehicles that didn’t start with a bang and a sputter of black smoke. Whatever the reason, he wasn't all that fond of it.

"I'm glad I'll be wearing a helmet." was all he had to say. Poe rolled his eyes and kissed the tip of Finn's nose before securing the helmet on his head.

"Ye of little faith..." Poe sighed.

"Ye of little common sense." Finn countered. "You can't even argue."

 "Shut up."

 "Love you too, darling." 

 

\- ————————— -

 

As it turns out, Finn's worries were not unfounded.

The motorbike tore through the countryside like a bullet towards a bullseye. Farmhouses and cows and fields dissolved into coloured blurs hurtling past them at terminal velocity. It all verged on a little bit too fast. Finn kept his eyes shut and squeezed himself to Poe’s back the whole time, his teeth chattering in his skull. Turns out dating an adrenaline junkie had its downsides. 

Poe drove the same way he flew, that is to say, as though his life depended on it, or as though he hated staying in one place long enough, Finn had never decided which it was. All he knew was that Poe’s need to move was such that if his trolley got caught in traffic he would get out and walk, rain or shine, whether he was a block from his stop or across town from it. It wasn’t unheard of for him to pop up on Finn’s doorstep on wet days when he had hopped out before stopping to think about far he still had to get home. His hair would be plastered to his face, his arms would be full of waterlogged groceries, and he’d have forced his mouth into a shivering smile. Finn rolled his eyes in derision just thinking about it. On one memorable visit, Poe had spent two hours shivering in Finn’s bed with five quilts and the cat clutched to his chest, all the while trying to justify his attempt to walk from Highbridge to Long Island in a hailstorm. What an idiot. But at the very least he was Finn's idiot.

When they finally puttered into a thicket at the side of the road in the middle of nowhere Poe grabbed Finn's hand and pulled him down a tiny trail, barely cleared and marked by triangles scratched into tree bark. Whenever Finn asked where they were going he just got shushed, so after awhile he gave up, even going as far as to listen to Poe when he told him to close his eyes and let himself be led down the path. They managed with only minor mishaps, and then Finn felt the air shift around him, open and free after the claustrophobia of the forest.

"Now?" he ventured. He felt Poe squeeze his hand before pulling away. 

 "Go ahead." When Finn opened his eyes he laughed in delight. They were standing on a rickety dock above a tiny beach, all white sand and cool breeze. He hopped down and kicked off his shoes and socks, wriggling his toes in the warm water while Poe set up a picnic.

"Wow, babe, you've outdone yourself..." He unbuttoned his shirt and grinned at Poe, who had pulled a vase and plastic rose out of his picnic basket.

“Well, I figured since you're not allowed on the public ones, we may as well just find our own. When’s the last time you went to a beach, sweetheart?” Finn turned back to the horizon and shrugged, cycling back the months and years, trying to remember the last big body of water he'd seen.

“Well, that would be…” Finn blinked and cleared his throat. “Would be…” He shook his head and blinked back the tears burning in his eyes. What was going on? He got his answer when an image flashed through his mind. Nothing but a snapshot, the flicker of a face, a smile, a bloodied grin frozen above a throat blown open by gunfire. Finn stopped dead in his tracks, eyes locked on the horizon.

Now, Finn prided himself on his ability to suppress memories. What was he suppressing? He wasn’t sure. That’s how much he excelled at it. But right now even he couldn’t hold back the flood, the onslaught of sights and sounds and sensations, back with a vengeance to torment him. For the first time in years, he remembered.

One second he was feeling the sun on his bare back, the sand beneath his feet, but the next thing he knew his sodden combats were clinging to his skin and his toes were being pinched by boots that were just a little too tight. Not just that, everything else had come back too. The cliff looming above him, salt water tingling on his tongue, bodies falling around him, last breaths caught in frozen throats and empty eyes staring at him, shrieking at him. Slip’s eyes, blank and lifeless at Finn’s feet.

His head rang and his breath stopped. He was frozen. If he stayed that way he would die, just like the others, just like Slip. He scrambled back onto the beach, stumbling over the cracked shells littering the ground, slipping on the seaweed rotting in the sun. Only he wasn’t on the beach anymore. He was back on the cliff, back on the battlefield. His boots were tangled in entrails; it was shrapnel cutting into his bare skin. And Slip’s ghost was following him, watching his every move, getting closer, closing in, grabbing him by the wrist and trying to yank him down with it. He cried out and jerked away from the touch, only coming back to himself when a voice called him back from the brink.

“Finn, hey, it’s alright. Look at me. Deep breaths, buddy.” There was the voice, then a hand, and then Poe was standing in front of him, looking stricken. Or was he in Finn's imagination too? Having no way of knowing for sure, Finn scrambled backwards and clocked the back of his head on a rock, crumpling in a dazed heap. A spot on the back of Poe's skull throbbed in sympathy and he got up to help, but when Finn shook his head he nodded and sat back on his heels. For once he decided that diving in headfirst may not be the best course of action. "Finn, look at me, please?" Finn obliged, but only because he heard the break in Poe's voice.

“I'm sorry…” he muttered. Tears flowed down his cheeks and he rubbed at them with shaking hands. "I'm..." Slowly Poe reached out and smoothed his hand over Finn's forehead, clammy with sweat and turning feverish. He waited until Finn nodded, then he leant in and kissed him on the cheek, the tip of his nose, the curve of his jaw. When he pressed his lips to Finn's forehead he took a deep breath and buried his face in Poe’s chest, hiccuping and apologising. He stayed like that for a while, trying to ignore the waves lapping on the sand, focusing on Poe’s voice in his ear, listening to the lullaby he couldn’t understand but clung to nonetheless. 

When the tears slowed to shudders and gasps Poe pulled back and rested his forehead against Finn's, not resenting the bruising grip on his wrist. “Finn, sweetheart, I’m sorry.” he whispered. He trailed a hand down Finn’s cheek, his fingers skimming over dried tears. “Do you want to go home?” 

“Yeah.” His voice was hoarse, but he could manage a word at a time. Poe rubbed Finn’s face and kissed his sweaty forehead while he caught his breath. “Sorry…”

“Not your fault. Your house? It’s the closest.” Finn took one last look at the waves lapping benignly on the shore, the dock crumbling piece by piece into the lake. "That okay with you, sweetheart?" Finn nodded and kissed Poe on the cheek.

"Home sounds really good right now." 

 

\- ————————— -

 

The second they walked in the door the cat was around his ankles and meowing for attention. Finn scooped her up and ran his fingertips over her bulging stomach, heavy with her first litter. He suspected the no-account Manx that lived in the apartment across the street. 

"You got any coffee?" Poe asked. 

"Top cupboard." He followed Poe into the kitchen, cat fur tickling his nose and warm purrs buzzing against his chest. He sat down at the table with her and watched Poe move around the kitchen. He was already singing, something he'd heard a week earlier at the movies. 

_If they asked me, I could write a book_  
_About the way you walk, and whisper;_  
_And look...._

 From the picnic basket, Poe pulled out a cake that was only a little bit squished and a box of candles and matches. He stuck a couple candles in it, preemptively whistling the first few lines of “Happy Birthday”. But by the time he got one of the flimsy matches to light Finn had already scraped off and eaten most of the icing, so they scrapped that idea and just dumped it in a big plastic mixing bowl with two spoons and a dollop of whipped cream. 

While they were waiting for the coffee to boil Poe noticed a painting sitting under a cracked fishbowl. It was a beach, from what he could tell, painted in dismal shades of grey and blue save for splashes of red and green dotting the sand. “You were at D-Day?” he asked. Finn sighed and nodded, letting the cat slip out of his lap and waddle out of the room.

“Yeah, Pointe du Hoc. Fucking shitshow…” He glanced around, looking wary. “Started out with two hundred men, only sixty-five of us got out with all our limbs attached. I guess that makes me one of the lucky ones.” Poe nodded and poured half a pot of creamer into Finn’s mug. That was all he needed to know. They may talk later on if Finn wanted to, but for now, this was more than enough. He grabbed the cake and the coffees and went into the bedroom while Finn collected the cushions and blankets and sheets off of the couch. Those were rearranged into a fort in the corner of his room, where the two of them finally snuggled up together in a heap of quilts and food, the cat curled up at their feet. 

“Happy birthday, Finn.” Poe said when they were all settled. Finn smiled and pecked him on the forehead. 

“Thank you, for everything, really.” He poked Poe in the stomach, making him squirm. “The cake looks good, by the way. Did you make it?”

“I wrote “Happy Birthday, Finn” on top.” he said sheepishly as he traced the scars on Finn’s face. “You have Rey to thank for the rest of it.” Finn poked some cake into Poe's mouth, laughing. 

“I appreciate the effort.” He licked away a smear of whipped cream on Poe's chin, quick to turn the contact into a sugary kiss. “How long do we have ‘till they bring Bebe back?” Already his hands were travelling down Poe's frame, sliding over skin, slipping under clothing.

“Can't I have some more cake, first?" Poe complained. Finn rolled his eyes and kissed Poe's neck, smiling as his grumblings softened to murmurs before simply becoming gentle pleas for more. And after the pleas, well, what happened after those was their business.

 

\- ————————— -

 

“Finn…” Poe whined into a pillow. Instead of answering Finn kissed the back of Poe’s neck, running a hand down his sides, the tacky skin still shuddering with low, sated pants. “Finn, I want to take a bath.”

“I want to stay here and cuddle.” he countered. “Besides, why clean up when we’re not even done?” 

“You gotta be kidding me…” Poe groaned as Finn shook with laughter on top of him. They were tangled up together on the bare mattress in a boneless heap, late afternoon sun tickling Finn’s back and shoulders, warming Poe by extension. Poe squirmed when Finn massaged his rear end, not letting him see his smile. “Let go of my butt.” he grumbled. “Or at least let me…” Finn raised himself onto his elbows, but when Poe flipped over he just collapsed back down again, pinning him firmly in place. “Oof…” 

“You’re not getting away that easy.” Finn laughed. Poe rolled his eyes and tickled Finn’s ribs.

“Well, I guess I owe it to you after dumping babysitting duty on you. Was Bebe good?” he asked. Finn nodded and kissed Poe's forehead.

“As gold. Head’s up, she may bring up something that happened when we were out. Just some guy harassing me. Worried her some. Might want to reassure her that I’m a big boy and can take care of myself.”

“What happened?” Poe asked. While Finn told the story Poe's eyebrows drew closer and closer together, and by the end of it, he was scowling almost as darkly as Bebe had. “This has not been your day…” he sighed as he scratched his fingers over Finn’s scalp.

“You made it better.” Finn looked up in time to see something like guilt flicker across Poe’s face. “Oh, don’t give me that. Thank you. I’m serious.” 

“It’s no secret that your birthday gift went all types of wrong. And then this? A gun, really? Jesus Christ...” Finn smiled and kissed Poe's crinkled up forehead. “I just don't get it. Why you of all people? God, I wish I could make it easier for you. I don’t understand people, sometimes. The things they do.” He shook his head and rested against the pillows, barely even smiling when Finn started to play with his curls. Instead, he screwed his eyes shut and shook his head again like he was trying to block something out. “You don’t deserve any of this, Finn. It’s not…” Then he noticed that Finn was grinning from ear to ear. “What?”

“So that’s where Bebe gets it.” he laughed. 

“Huh?”

“You both…” He sighed and sat back, straddling Poe’s hips and rubbing small circles on his belly. “You both hate to think that there’s bad in people. You both hate that people don’t always mean well.” 

“Is it that strange to think that way? Don’t you…” Poe trailed off, but Finn nudged him under the chin and smiled. “I guess what I’m trying to ask - God this sounds wrong…” He reached out and caressed Finn’s cheek, chewing on his lip as though coming to a decision. “Do you expect people to be evil, Finn?” he asked quietly. Finn raised his eyebrows and rested his hand on Poe’s own, kissing his palm and nibbling at his fingertips.  

“Of course not. I always hoped for the best in people but after awhile it got sorta tiring. I suppose I stopped looking for the good in them, since they never looked for the good in me.” He pressed Poe's hand to his lips, thinking. “I guess that’s why I trusted you the second I met you, because you trusted me, first. It was like you were all the good I never knew existed in the world. Like everything I’d been missing was suddenly standing right in front of me. Like feeling the sun on my face after a lifetime of rain.” Finn blinked and smiled triumphantly at Poe. "Sunshine, how's that for a nickname?"

"You know I can't say no to you..." Poe sighed. "Fine. You can call me sunshine if I can call you an equally sappy nickname."

"Please, you've already got that covered, _amor._ But if you've got any other ideas, do tell." 

"Well, you got yours from the day we met, so I s'pose I should do the same..." 

"I didn't do anything that great, Poe. I just happened upon you."

"Oh, please. Think about it from my perspective. I was going to die, Finn. I was going to die somewhere I didn’t belong, not understanding where I was or how I’d gotten there. I was going to die hating a life I wasn’t done with. And then who should turn up but you? You saved my life, Finn, and who knows how many others. You’re a hero. You're my hero.” He pushed himself up and pressed a kiss to Finn’s cheek. “My very own Superman.”

“I don’t like Superman. Too perfect.”

“Someone’s picky. How about Captain America? You are a something of a supersoldier.”

“Yeah, a black Captain America. Not in a million years, pal. But when that day does come, you can be my Latino Betty Ross.”

“I’d buy that comic.” The springs squeaked as Poe rolled out of bed, much to Finn’s chagrin. Poe swatted him away and laughed. “Hands to yourself, and close your eyes. I'm getting your birthday present.”

“Is it a puppy?” Finn speculated, groping blindly with his outstretched arms. Poe pressed an old hat box into Finn’s waiting hands, grinning when he opened his eyes and stared in surprise. Flowers and feathers had been cut from an old tea hat and stuck on the lid with tape, and the whole affair was dripping with lace and ribbons. Finn raised his eyebrows and the both of them laughed. "Not that I'm complaining, but who dressed it up in filigree?"

“Bebe did. It’s from the both of us. She insisted on wrapping it. Don’t ask me how, but she scrapped together two dollars as a contribution.” His smile only widened as Finn wrestled with the layers of wrapping paper. “I suspect a rigged game of marbles.”

When Finn finally solved the Gordian knot Bebe had brought into being he lifted the lid of the hat box and pulled out another box, wrapped just as securely as the first. He scowled at Poe, who shrugged, trying to hold back a laugh. "Guess she wanted to cover all her bases." he speculated, trying to control his laughter. 

Turns out what Bebe had been trying so desperately to conceal was a box of oil paints, eight by four rows of pristine white tubes, names printed on their sides. Colours like _Winsor Red_ , _Perylene Black,_ _Rose Dorè_. Finn read them out as he looked them over, excitement bubbling in his voice. Poe had walked into an art store and asked for the fanciest oil paints they had, damn the cost. There were twenty-two dollars in his pocket begging to be spent, and he was hell-bent on getting this guy something nice. It looks like his bargain had payed off. Finn looked up at him, meeting his smile with an even wider one. Poe smirked and shrugged. "You said you were running low. Happy birthday, _amor_. I love you."

"I love you, too. This's incredible..." He closed the box and ran his fingers over the raised lettering on the lid, tracing the words written in gold. "What should I paint, first?"

"Whatever you want." Poe laughed. Finn nodded and cleared the shelf above the bed, carefully sliding the box into what now looked like a shrine. He considered it for a bit, smiling, and suddenly Poe found himself being pushed back into the pillows, rearranged on his side with sheets draped strategically over his naked body. "And what's this?"

"I'm painting what I want." Finn supplied helpfully. He scooped a canvas and pencil off of the ground and settled against the wall, considering Poe with an objective eye, desire and lust eschewed for form and lighting. "Now shut up and let me look at you."

"Just warning you, I might fall asleep..."

"Just don't toss and turn." Finn told him. "And try not to snore..." But Poe had already broken the second rule. At least he wouldn't complain about having to sit still for so long now, as he was wont to do when awake. Finn shook his head and laughed, roughing out the angle and jut of a collarbone, singing under his breath as he did.

_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine_  
_You make me happy, when skies are grey..._

As he was putting the finishing touches on his sketch the cat slipped out of the open window without him noticing, warming her paws on the sun-heated metal. She nudged against the Manx waiting for her on the sill and they settled down in a heap on the fire escape, purring a little, nuzzling each other now and again. It wasn't all that different from what was going on inside, really. Only difference was the cats didn't have to be so secretive about it.  


	6. 53rd Street, 1946

The strangest thing about all this, Poe thought, was what Finn did to time. Some days Poe would wake up, a to-do list already buzzing in his head, precious seconds trickling through his fingertips like sand. He’d resolve himself to be productive, and then Finn would shift in his arms and suddenly Poe had all the time in the world just to lay there with him.

 It was witchcraft, honestly. He didn’t have an explanation for how hours suddenly felt like weeks, while the weeks flashed by like dragonflies, blink and you’ll miss them. All he knew was that somehow, it was Finn’s fault. It was like he was holding Poe’s world in his hands, spinning it only when he saw fit to do so, and Poe had nothing to do but hold on tight.

So it goes without saying that his perception of time got more than a little bit skewed. A perfect example of that was a cold morning when he woke to the wind wailing outside, the soft thud of fat, fluffy snowflakes against the frosted-up windowpane. He blinked in confusion for a moment before remembering. It was December, halfway through, actually. Why had he thought they were still in July? He must be going senile. He laughed softly and rolled out of bed to stuff the bottoms of the windows with old pillowcases, keep the damp out. As he crept around the room with his arms full of linens the past few months reappeared in his memory. Birthdays, workdays, schooldays, all right where he left them, linear and sure. Although he couldn’t help but wonder if it really hadn’t been summer only yesterday.

When the windows were secure he turned back to the bed and bit back a laugh. So that’s what had been lying on his arm when he woke up. Sometime during the night, Bebe had climbed into bed with him and Finn, who thankfully had learnt to wear boxers while he was sleeping over, which was most nights at this point. 

He was curled up in all the blankets on the very edge of the bed, dangerously close to toppling right off, while Bebe had sprawled out between him and the spot where Poe had been, the kitten Finn had given as a birthday present clutched to her chest. Poe lifted her gently and tucked her under the spare blanket he kept at the foot of the bed. Heavy sleeper, this one. Wild horses couldn't wake her up when she set her mind to staying asleep.

As Poe was fluffing up the pillow for her Finn grunted and rolled over, draping an arm over Bebe and the cat, who hissed and bit into his thumb. Still half asleep, Finn yanked his arm back and wound up bashing his funny bone against the headboard. At that he jolted awake and groaned, cradling his elbow in his arm and glaring at the cat.

"Fucking Christ, Ruiz..." Finn cussed and sucked at his bleeding thumb before noticing Poe standing above him with a disapproving look on his face. He turned to Bebe and shrugged, smoothing out her messy curls. "What? She's asleep. She can't hear me."

"It's the principle of the thing. What if she picks up on your bad habits?" Poe tucked Bebe’s teddy bear back under her arm and pulled Finn out of bed. "God knows she's impressionable, and she copies everything you do. So when she starts calling the librarian a shit-speckled gargoyle, I'll know who to blame."

“It took me awhile to come up with that one…” Finn yawned as he trailed after Poe. They crowded into the bathroom together, sleepwalking through the routine of shaving, brushing teeth, waking the other when they dozed off against the sink. When Poe had to shake Finn awake for the fourth time he pulled his glasses off and smiled at him. 

“Hey, _amor_ , you wanna go back to bed?”

“No…” Finn whined. He kissed Poe’s neck and pulled him closer. “I want to be with you, and Bebe’s got the bed. How long’s it been? Two weeks?”

“Two weeks since…” Poe bit his lip as Finn rutted up against his rear end, letting his body do the talking. “Really should’ve guessed that.” 

“No kidding.” Finn slipped his hands into Poe's pyjama pants and pressed a kiss into his hair. "We've got time, right? Bebe doesn't have to start getting ready for another half hour. So long's you keep quiet we should be good."

"You're one to talk." Poe rested his cheek on Finn's arm, stretched out in front of them and digging in the medicine cabinet. "Top shelf."

"Thank you..."

They kept it quick, just a few minutes of rutting and pushing and sleepy, satisfied noises. When he felt Finn begin to spasm against him Poe shuddered and stifled a moan by biting Finn’s hand, clasped over his mouth lest Bebe hear them. Finn came first, gasping something between a laugh and Poe’s name. That, coupled with Finn's grip on his cock and the warmth blooming deep inside him, was enough to tip Poe over the edge. Come burst over Finn's fingers and Poe gasped as tension flowed out of his limbs to the point where he could barely stand. He slumped against the sink, Finn’s hand braced against his heaving stomach, his forehead pressed against the mirror. When Finn slipped out of him Poe exhaled slowly, his breath fogging up the glass.

“You alright?” Finn murmured, resting his chin on Poe's shoulder. Poe nodded and stroked Finn's cheek, his fingers dipping into the grooves Finn's dimples made.

"'Course, lover. How was that for a wake-up? If only we had time for this every day…” He tilted his head back and let Finn kiss his neck. “Think we can go again?”

Finn just sighed, a low, lazy sound from somewhere in his chest. They got their answer when a second later Bebe knocked on the door.

“Papá? Is Finn with you?” 

“I’m teaching him how to shave.” Poe blurted out. Finn rolled his eyes and hopped up onto the counter, combing out the tangles in Poe’s curls. “We’ll be out in a second.”

“Fine…” They heard Bebe stomp off into the kitchen, the cat scampering after her. Finn snorted and pulled Poe's hair.

“Really? How to shave? Am I twelve?”

“Yes, you are twelve, which means we need to have the talk. Well, Finn, at this age you’re going to notice some changes in your body. Hair where there wasn’t hair before, strange _urges_ …” While he pulled Finn’s shorts back on he groped at his dick, already at half-mast.  “I know it may be tempting to act out on those feelings, say by making sweet love to a certain lonely pilot, but-"

“But you have to ignore those feelings because pre-marital sex can kill you.” Finn finished. He rubbed at the sticky patch of white on the counter and smirked at Poe. “Did you get the talk from nuns, too?”

“Yup. By their logic, I should be in the ground by now…” Poe smiled and ran his hands over Finn’s chest. He leant forward, their lips brushed, then an awful banging on the door interrupted them. It seemed as though Bebe had grown impatient.

“Papá, I’m gonna be late!”

“Alright, alright. Hold your horses, it's only..." Poe glanced at the clock on the wall behind him and his eyes widened. "Oh, shit."

"What?" Bebe asked through the door.

"Out in a bit." Finn called back. Poe pulled him off of the counter and they scrambled to collect their things off of the floor, dressing in a flurry of mismatched clothes and whispered curses.  

"Go make Bebe breakfast, would you?" Poe asked, his head stuck inside of his shirt. Finn’s shirt, actually, but they were too pressed for time to correct it. Finn rolled his eyes and released him, trying to comb through his flyaway curls.

"You're a mess..." he sighed. Poe rolled his eyes and shoved him out into the hall.

"Yeah, but I'm your mess. Now go be a good dad for me." Finn groaned and Poe kissed him on the cheek before wrinkling up his nose and turning towards the kitchen. "Do you smell burning?" Finn's eyes widened and he sprinted down the hall, Poe trailing after him in his shorts.

This was just a typical morning for them, really. Nothing much to report.

 

\- ————————— -

 

“Hey, boss. Nice timing.” Poe glanced at the clock on the office wall and then at Jess, who was sitting on his desk, clipboard in one hand and a wrench in the other. She was his "secretary", technically, but they had bent the rules a little bit and now her duties had expanded from occasionally answering the phone to instructing new pilots on the fine art of dogfighting. She worked under the guise of "Jesse", a guy who's name tag had been misprinted and who always wore his helmet because he was self-conscious about his bald spot. Excellent cover, actually. Even explained away the times when she and Rey would disappear together as a wholesome, heterosexual romance.

Yeah, right. The straightest thing on this base was the runway. Poe smirked and poured himself a coffee, taking a look at the schedule on the side table.

“Had a time getting Bebe out of bed today. Any updates?” He glanced out the window at the empty airfield, blanketed by snow. Han must be going stir-crazy. He always did go a little nuts when he was grounded. Poe still remembered how one night, ages ago, he must have been six or seven. They were all stuck in the Solo's barn together when a storm hit, Han, Ben, and himself. The two of them were getting a bit antsy, but it was nothing compared to Han, who was pacing up and down the length of the barn like a tiger in a cage, that is, until inspiration struck.

Now it was decades later, and neither Ben nor Poe had been able to convince anyone of the truth. Nobody believed them no matter how many times they insisted that Han had been the one to come up with a fun game called "Jump Out of the Loft and Aim For the Soft-Looking Hay Bales." Apparently, and Poe's split lip and Ben's dislocated shoulder proved it, hay is not as soft as it looks. The sly smirk of victory that appeared on Han's face whenever the story was brought up haunted Poe to this very day.

“The new recruits come in next month. Transfers from the Donaldson base. The promising ones are being sent here. The rest are going up to Plattsburgh.” Jess tossed her apple core into the garbage can by the door and zipped up her flight suit. She always wore it on base, in the air or not. The thing had about eight pockets and she was ready to exploit the right she had to every one of them.

“Hope the snow’s cleared up by then. Any word on where our last batch wound up?”

“They scatter the kids, boss. You know that. Geez, no wonder they all called you “dad” behind your back…”

“To my face, some of ‘em.” he laughed. "Seen Han? I need to ask about the training schedule."

"Last I saw him he was chewing out Rey in hangar 12. I don't think I want to know the backstory..." 

"Yikes, I'd better go track one of them down. What happened?"

"No clue. I'm not one to poke the sleeping bear. That's your job."

"Fair enough." Poe admitted. "Wonder how this's gonna go..."

When he got to the hangar he found Rey moping on the wing of the Falcon, a toolbox forgotten at her side. She was fiddling idly with a loose screw, not making any progress, but that seemed to be her intention. When she saw him her scowl deepened and she turned her attention back to her work with lacklustre importance.

“Fuck off, Dameron.” she sighed. This was a customary greeting for her, at least when she was in a foul enough mood. Poe laughed and leant up against the body of the fighter. It wasn't all that different from talking to Ben on one of his good days.

"Hello to you too. I thought you were in Chanute." An airbase in Illinois, Rey had gotten into their training program only after a ridiculous amount of tests, all of which she aced, and a good word or two from some vets, Poe included. She had left in August and wasn't due back until early February. So whatever had happened, it must be quite the story.

 “I was. Then I ran my instructor into the ground during a test and got kicked out." she said sullenly. Poe looked at her with raised eyebrows. This kid's bad side was a scary place and he prayed he would never end up there.

"How'd that happen, exactly?" he asked, more than a little bit terrified.

"Well, he spends the whole course saying how I'll never amount to much, how sooner or later I'm gonna realise that it isn't right for a woman to be in such a dangerous line of work, seeing as how I'm a delicate fucking flower and all." she snorted and twirled the screwdriver around her fingertips like a pencil. "So we're training, and a test comes up, and the idea's to keep yourself outta the instructor's sights for as long as you can, right? We pulled straws, I got paired up with Instructor Horseshit, and I figure I may as well take him for a ride." she smirked, obviously satisfied with the outcome. "They'll be scraping pieces of his PT-22 off of that mountainside for a long time."

"Rey, murder won't fix your problems..."

"Oh, he's alive. He pulled his chute. But the point is he's the instructor, and it's his job to know how to fly a damn fighter. The guy should've been able to make that turn. But no, that yellow-bellied son of a bitch just had to go crying to the officers, calling me a "menace" and saying I was an affront to women everywhere. It's his fault I got booted out." For all her bravado she was bummed about this, Poe could tell. There had to be a way to fix this. Wait a minute, how had Poe not thought about this before? He grinned and smacked Rey on the back. Damn if this wasn't one of the best ideas he had ever had.

“Look, I can get you your wings. You can train with my crew from now on.” Rey's eyes widened in delight for a moment but she shook her head.

“That’s asking too much, Poe. And you guys are professionals. I'd stick out like a sore thumb..."

“Hey, I owe Ben a favour, and helping out his baby sister sounds like a good trade-off. We’ll make a fighter pilot outta you yet, Rey.” He squeezed her shoulder and gave her a stern look. "Just promise me something."

"Yeah?"

"Please don't make me crash into a mountain."

 

\- ————————— -

 

“Where’re you guys off to?” Finn asked. He was lounging around on Poe’s couch, writing up a report on an arson case. Why someone had tried to burn down an ice cream parlour, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that the owner was looking for compensation for the several hundred gallons of ice cream that were lost and that there was a possibility of the verdict hinging on a carton of Double Chocolate Swirl.

“Bebe’s Abuelo got tickets to the ballet. They’re putting on “The Nutcracker”. You want to come? There’s an extra ticket.” Poe looked up at Finn with a hopeful glint in his eyes. God, it was hard to say no to that face, but Finn had to do it.

“Hm, it’s at the Met? Too risky. Don’t want someone to have a heart attack when they realise they're sitting beside me. Besides, I’m only allowed to be up in the nosebleeds, so we wouldn’t be able to sit together. Sorry, sunshine. No making out in the back of the theatre for you.”

"This is bull…" Poe complained. He sighed, tugging Bebe's boots onto her feet. "You'd like the show too, I think..."

"You overestimate my attention span." Finn laughed. He picked up his paperwork and the cat and wandered over to the bedroom. "Bring me back a playbook." he called over his shoulder.

"Will do..." Resigned, Poe went back to buttoning Bebe's coat. He didn't realise he was still scowling until she reached out and pressed her hands to his face, trying to mould it into a smile. "What is it, sweetheart?" 

“Why isn’t Finn coming with us?” she asked petulantly. "It won't be as much fun without him." Poe had to agree. He secured Bebe's cap on her head and pulled her to her feet. 

“He's not coming because we live in a time of institutionalised racism and enforced segregation.” Bebe blinked up at him, her brow furrowed. “He has work to do.”

“Oh, okay…” It was bullshit, and she knew it was bullshit. Thankfully, just this once she decided not to be curious. Poe smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear.

"C'mon, sweetheart. Abuelo's waiting on us." 

 

\- ————————— -

 

"...And the roof would be made of chocolate chip cookies and there would be a grape soda waterfall and the sidewalk would be made of caramel brittle and I'd never have to eat vegetables ever." Bebe concluded. 

Poe sighed and tilted his head back. Finally, she had run out of ideas. She had been entranced by the Sugarplum fairy's castle in the ballet, and as soon as they left the theatre she had launched into a lavish description of how, if given the chance, she would construct one of her very own. That had been half an hour ago, and in that time they had walked all the way to the docks, where Kes would catch the ferry back home. Poe had tried to compel him to stay, but Kes didn’t like leaving the farm alone for too long, said he felt lonely without it. ”You could come visit, Abuelo. Papá wouldn't have to cook because we could just eat the house." Bebe offered. Kes laughed and picked her up, hugging her to his chest.

"If your Papá only hurried up and got himself a wife, he wouldn't have to cook, candy house or no." He ruffled Bebe's hair and arched an eyebrow at Poe, who was suddenly very interested in the empty expanse of sea spread out before them, rippling like navy blue satin in the sunset. Wonder what he’d find if he swam out to the horizon, that line out in the distance where the sun kissed the sea. He dismissed the thought quickly. The water was too deep, and probably too cold. He heard giggles and turned back to Bebe, who was laughing as Kes poked her in the tummy. “Wouldn’t you like a new Mamá, _cariño_?” 

“I’ve already got one.” she said proudly. Poe shushed her sharply and she bit her tongue, looking at him with wide eyes. But the damage had been done. Kes blinked and looked at Poe with a smile. Thankfully he didn’t have his glasses on, else he would have been able to see the abject terror on Poe's face.

"Really? _Dios mío_. Why are you hiding the young lady from us?” he demanded jovially. Poe shrugged and fiddled with the end of his scarf, refusing to look at Kes, who hadn’t picked up on his fear. “Love is a splendid thing, _mijo_. Let a tired old man see his son happy again. What's her name? What's she like? Bebe, do you like her?" 

Poe glanced down to find that Bebe had fallen asleep in Kes' arms, thank goodness. Her answer could have been the end of him. _Okay, Abuelo. I'll tell you all about my new Mamá. First off, she’s actually a he, his name's Finn, and he’s black. I can’t wait for the wedding!_ Poe shivered and took Bebe from Kes, patting her gently on the back. “Let’s let her sleep. It’s been a long day.”

“Like a little _querubín_ , she is.” Kes sighed. The wind shifted and the both of them looked up. The ferry was pulling up to the docks, the other passengers that had been milling about were shouldering their bags and saying their goodbyes. Kes clapped Poe on the shoulder and grinned. “Come visit with this new Mamá of hers sometime.” and then, under his breath, "You still have the ring, don't you?" 

"I'd have to look, Dad. But c'mon, I don't want to rush things..." Kes waved his hand dismissively, a knowing smile on his face.

"Listen here, children know things we old folk could never understand. And one thing they has the eye for is good people. If she trusts this woman, and she does, then it means the two of you are right for each other. I've seen it time and time again." He pulled Poe into a hug and kissed him on both cheeks. "Don't be a stranger, _mijo._ " he ordered as he hobbled off.

"Will do. Take care of yourself, Dad." Poe waved and readjusted Bebe in his arms, wrapping his scarf around her shoulders. The salty night breeze was probably getting to her. He looked down at her face and sighed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You're not the only one who wants us to be a family, sweetheart," he whispered into her hair. "I promise you that." 

 

\- ————————— -

 

“Papá, look! A shooting star!” Poe looked up, caught a brief burst of white, then it was gone and the sky was still once more. Bebe hopped up onto the stoop of their building and screwed up her face in concentration, mouthing a silent plea, repeating it three times to herself before releasing it to the stars. She opened one eye and then the other, nodding in satisfaction. “Okay, I’m done.”

“What’d you wish for?”

“I can’t tell you. I didn’t tell you last time, and it worked then, so if I don’t tell you, this time, it’ll work too.” she reasoned.

“Really? What’d you wish for last time?” Poe laughed. She had probably wished for a cat.  Bebe was enamoured with the kitten Finn had given her on her birthday. Once Poe had caught her trying to smuggle it to school inside her backpack. “It can’t come untrue, so it’s safe to tell me now.”

“I wished for a Mamá and a Papá like everyone else’s got.” Bebe squeezed Poe’s hand, her eyes bright with triumph. “And God gave you Finn so he could be my new Mamá.” 

Poe blinked and swallowed, vision gone hazy. Now here was one of those moments that he wished the earth would just open up and swallow him whole, drop him into Hell so he could burn in peace. Better that than having to look into his daughter's eyes and tell her something no kid should ever have to hear.

“Look, Bebe…” He sat down beside her on the stoop and pulled her into his lap. "Finn, you can't tell people that you think he's your Mamá."

“I don’t think he’s my Mamá, he _is_ my Mamá. I know he is ’cause he loves you, Papá, and that's how parents work. Can I at least say he's my other Papá?" she asked hopefully. Poe shook his head and ran his hand over Bebe's hair.

"No, _cariño_. Nobody can know about us."

“Are you not allowed to be in love with him?” she said slowly. Poe nodded and she blinked, trying to grasp his meaning. “So I can’t be like my friends? I can’t tell them I got a family like they’ve got?”

“They can’t know about him.” Poe said softly. She opened her mouth to protest, but Poe shushed her. “I know it sounds silly, but it’s to keep all of us safe.”

“Safe from what?”

“Some people don’t think we really love each other. They just think we’re sick, that something’s wrong with our brains. So if we want to stay together, we have to be very careful, because if we mess up and the wrong people find out, bad things’ll happen to us.”

“What sort of things?” Bebe’s eyes were wide with horror, as they should be. Where to begin? Lobotomies, electroshock therapy, hormones, reconditioning, being stuck in prison with the murderers and the rapists, and them thinking you’re the one who’s fucked up. 

That was one road. The other meant marrying again, leaving Finn for someone Poe couldn’t help but hate. Not because of something she had said or done, but just because she wasn’t Finn. He wasn’t sure which was worse. And there was always Bebe to consider. Bebe, who shouldn't have to deal with any of this, shouldn't have to see how ugly people could be. What had he exposed the poor kid to? She shook her head, trying to understand.

“That’s not fair. You love each other a lot, but you can’t say so? Lucy has a mom and a dad, and they can call themselves a family. But her parents, they don’t talk to each other. They don’t like each other one bit. Sometimes her dad says mean things to them, other times he hurts them. But they’re allowed to be a family. Why can’t we be one too?” Her eyes brimmed over with tears and her lips trembled. “Why can’t we have what everybody else’s got?”  

“I don’t have an answer for that, sweetheart.” Poe admitted. Bebe sniffled wrathfully and wriggled her way out of his arms, tripping up the stairs. "Bebe, listen..." 

“That’s not good enough!” she cried out. She stumbled and bashed her knee on the step, but she kept going, tears flowing freely down her face. "It doesn't make sense! None of it makes sense!" Poe opened his mouth to reassure her, but nothing came out. He stood there in silence, listening as she ran up the stairs and slammed first their front door, then her bedroom door. Poe closed his mouth and took a breath as something occurred to him. She was right. It didn't make sense, and he was powerless to fix it.

 

\- ————————— -

 

When Poe finally managed to get upstairs he spent a good minute staring at his front door, considering his options. Well, option, actually. All he had to do was sit Bebe down and explain that he and Finn didn’t count as parents because the vast majority of the population believed they were a couple of freaks who frankly shouldn’t be allowed to have a kid within fifty feet of them, let alone care for one, because it’s a well known fact that all homosexuals are child molesters and rapists.

Yeah, that would go down well.

While he stood fidgeting on the welcome mat the door creaked open and Finn was there, a tired smile on his face. “Don’t ask.” Poe grumbled, pressing his face into the sky blue collar of Finn’s shirt. He hadn’t changed out of his uniform, but his shirt was untucked and and his tie was loose around his neck. Poe sighed and breathed in the scent of busy streets and crumbling redbricks, the city clinging to Finn’s skin.

“She’s in her room." Finn pointed out. Poe just shook his head, wrapping his arms around Finn's waist.

“I don’t know what to do…” he sighed. Finn pressed a kiss to his hair and ran his hands over Poe's face. 

“Your best, just like you usually do.” he told him. "I'll be out here if you need to call in the cavalry."

"Thanks for the support." Poe pushed Finn back onto the couch with his paperwork and smiled a bit. "Get back to work. I want to enjoy you on the weekend."

His almost-good mood dissipated when he was standing in Bebe's room. She was huddled under the blankets in the corner of her bed, sniffling and whimpering. He sighed and sat down beside her, kicking off his shoes and crossing his legs. “Bebe, look at me.” She peeked out from underneath the blankets, her puffy face streaked with dried tears. "C'mon out, sweetheart. I have to talk to you." When she didn't respond Poe sighed and picked her up, cradling her in his lap like she was a baby again. They just sat like that for a bit, Poe whispering a lullaby he would have sung to her when she was an infant, if he had been there to do it. 

That went on for awhile, Poe wasn't sure how long, all he knew was that he was exhausted. But when he was about to fall asleep Bebe tugged at his collar and looked up at him. She was calmer, but still confused. Poe wiped her cheek and kissed her on the forehead.  "Papá? Can I ask something?"

"Ask away, sweetheart."

“Is Abuelo one of the “wrong people” you were talking about? The ones who think you're sick? Because when I was about to talk about Finn, you made me be quiet…” She pulled her teddy bear closer and rested her head on Poe's chest. “Does he hate Finn?” Poe sighed and smoothed out her hair.

“He wouldn't get him. How I can love him."

"Why not?"

"It's hard for people to accept what they don't understand. You know how you hate math? You don't like it because it doesn't make any sense to you, right? That's what's going on here."

"Fractions are dumb." Bebe added helpfully. Poe rolled his eyes and let himself grin. "Is that why? People might get angry at you and Finn if they see you together?"

"Exactly. It's hard to know how they'd react to the two of us, so it's best to stay quiet about it.” He tilted Bebe's chin up, giving her a serious look. "You know you're not supposed to lie, right? You always have to tell the truth."

"Yeah."

"But sometimes, when it's very dangerous, you have to do what you can to keep yourself safe. It's not lying as much as it is hiding. That's what we have to do right now. I hope things will change one day, I really do. But until that day comes, our job is to take care of one another.  I promise you this much, sweetheart. Finn and me, we're a team, and we're going to keep all of us safe, from whatever's happening around us. Got that?"

"Yup." Bebe sighed. She looped her arms around Poe's neck and smiled at him. “Can I tell Finn about the dancing?” Her mind had already drifted to other matters. Poe smiled and kissed her on the forehead.

“Good idea. I think he’d like that.” With that Bebe ran out of the room, pausing for a moment to pet the cat, who was slinking across the hallway on his way to the kitchen. Poe grinned and lay back on her cot with a patchwork quilt wrapped around his shoulders. He could hear Bebe scamper over to the couch, her socks squeaking on the floor.

“Hey, kiddo. How was the show?” When he heard Finn say that Poe grinned. Poor bastard didn’t know what he was getting himself into. Without a moment’s pause Bebe launched into a lengthy account of the evening, detailing everything she could remember, starting from the before the curtains even rose. She didn't care much for plot, mostly she just rambled about costumes and sets. When she was describing the Sugarplum fairy’s candy castle for the tenth time Poe got up and went into his bedroom, looking for some peace and quiet.

Soft moonlight slipped in through the window shades, washing everything in a watery glow. Poe turned on the lamp sitting on his desk and pulled out the top drawer, the one messy thing in the house. After pulling out a screwdriver set, some crumpled sheet music, a hair bow Bebe had misplaced, and a handful of nuts and bolts, he finally found what he’d been looking for. He sat down on the edge of the bed with the velvet box cradled in his hands like a baby bird. He was almost scared to open it, but finally, he gave in and undid the latch. 

The silver ring was tarnished and dull, but it was nothing a little polishing couldn’t fix. He scooped it up and examined it in the warm yellow light. It had been his mother’s, kept in front of her picture on the mantlepiece back home, beside a candle and rosary. Seven years ago Kes had handed Poe the ring as he was headed out the door, the first time he had brought Maria over. _When the time comes._ he had said cryptically, folding Poe’s fingers over the ring. _You’ll know when it does_. 

Maybe, just maybe, the time was now. The thought had crossed his mind, of course. Proposing to Finn, seeing him light up, laugh a bit, smile as bright and broad as the sun. Poe lived to see that smile. It was awfully romantic, and he was a sucker for romance. But the more he thought about it, the less sense it made.What was a ring? For them at least, it was nothing but an empty promise, a reminder of what would never be. Frankly, it’d just be depressing to see the thing on Finn’s hand. 

Because there would never be a wedding. They’d never get the chance to stand at an altar, hand in hand. Bebe would never walk down the aisle with a basket of flowers. There wouldn’t be vows and they would never get to say “I do”. He left the box on the bedside table and went back into the front room to find it empty. Turns out they had migrated over to Bebe's room, Finn sitting on the edge of the bed with a story book, Bebe tucked in snugly with her pillows and quilts. Poe smiled and leaned against the doorway, listening to the last few pages of "Snow White."

“...So the Evil Queen was defeated, and the Prince and Snow White lived happily ever after. The end.” Finn concluded. Bebe pulled her teddy bear closer and sighed. 

“Are you sure they did?”

“As far as I can tell.” he closed the book and put it back on Bebe’s bedside table. “So, you’re in your nightgown, I checked under the bed for monsters, you got your water, we read a story, and I’ll leave the light on in the hall. You know what that means, kiddo.” Bebe pouted and shook her head.

“I want to stay up with you and Papá.” she whined. Poe laughed and came up behind Finn, rubbing his perpetually stiff shoulders.

“We’re not going anywhere.” he promised her. “So it’s lights out, and we’ll see you in the morning. Sounds good?” 

“Okay.” She sat up and Poe kissed her on the forehead before turning off the lamp. "Wait! I didn't say good night to Finn yet." 

Finn turned the light back on, laughing. "Whoops. Sorry, kiddo. Sweet dreams." He was only going to ruffle her hair, but Bebe jumped up and wrapped her arms around him, giggling when he lifted her and squeezed her in a bear hug. "Oh, you're a sneaky one. You trying to escape?"

"And she almost got away with it." Poe laughed. He pulled back the covers while Finn dropped Bebe back into bed where she belonged. She plopped back down with a giggle, pulling Finn close once more. 

“You _are_ my new Mamá.” she decided. She kissed him on the cheek and nuzzled her face into his neck. “Don’t matter what nobody else says, you _are_.” She turned to Poe, smiling from ear to ear. “Aren’t he?” 

They glanced at each other and Finn raised his eyebrows, hope dancing in his eyes. After a second Poe sighed and kissed Bebe on the forehead again. Aw, what the hell. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.” Bebe’s eyes lit up and she nestled down into the blankets, looking incredibly smug. But if anyone had earned it, it was this kid. “Sleep now, alright? Sweet dreams.” They turned out the light, and this time there were no protests.

Out in the hall Finn elbowed Poe in the ribs as he passed on his way to the kitchen, laughter bubbling in his voice. "So I'm her mom now? Was that a committee decision, or…”

"I can get her to stop if you want." Poe told Finn as he ladled out a cup of coffee. He poked his head back into the living room and smiled apologetically. "I know it must sound kind of weird."

"Why would I want her to stop? I think it's adorable." Finn settled down on the couch and pulled out another file from his bag, lining it up with the neat stacks spread out on the coffee table.

“You coming to bed?” As Poe asked he was handing Finn the mug. He knew what it looked like when the guy was gearing up for an all-nighter.

“Gotta get these reports in by Monday, and no way in hell am I giving up my weekend to do them.” Finn took a gulp of coffee and looked Poe up and down, smoothing a hand over his arm. “You've got a gig tomorrow so you'd best get some rest. You look tired.” 

"Sounds like a plan..." He kissed the top of Finn's head and shuffled back into the bedroom. But once he saw the rings sitting on the table he changed his mind. He got into his pyjamas and pulled one of the blankets off of the bed, wrapping it around himself as he crept back into the living room, feeling a little bit silly. When he heard the floorboards creaking Finn's head snapped up, but he relaxed when he realised it was just Poe.

“What’s up?”

“I’m just gonna stick around if that’s okay with you. The heater's still broken in there..." He wrapped himself up tighter and sat down beside Finn, who tipped him over so his head wound up in his lap.

"I could use the company." he decided. "G'night, Poe."

"Good luck with your paperwork..." Poe mumbled as he fell asleep. He was too exhausted to say anything actually clever. 

 

\- ————————— -

 

Poe was sitting at the end of the bar at the back of the club, listening to a guy with a piano and waiting for the owner to count up his pay. He wasn't in a rush, though, so it was alright. 

"This seat taken?" someone asked. Poe looked up from his drink and smiled. Finn was leaning against the bar, looking sharp in his uniform. "I'd sit down even if it were, but it seemed proper to ask first." Poe shook his head and clapped Finn on the shoulder, grinning.

“What’re you doing here?” 

“Got off early, thought I’d watch you play.” He hopped up on the stool beside Poe, tilting it back and forth precariously. "I never heard that second one before..."

“I'll play it for you, sometime. Actually, it's lucky that you're here. There’s something I’ve been meaning to show you." The bartender slid a stack of bills towards Poe and he grabbed them with a nod. "Thanks, Harry. C'mon, Jones."

"Y'know I got that name out of a phonebook." Finn admitted as they weaved their way across the dance floor. They stopped near a maintenance closet, just out of sight behind a wall of stacked chairs. Finn stared at the peeling paint on the door and snorted. "Well this is exciting..."

"This isn't what I wanted to show you. You have to close your eyes.” 

"Do I trust you after last time?" Poe arched an eyebrow and Finn kissed him apologetically. "Sorry, sorry. Lead the way." He put his hands in Poe's and closed his eyes. "Not looking." Poe stuck out his tongue and when Finn didn't react he pushed open the door and dragged him off.

Two hallways, three staircases, and one ladder later, (Poe really hadn't thought that last one through) the two of them were standing on a defunct balcony, tucked away with the broken chairs and out-of-tune pianos. They couldn't see the stage, but they could hear the music playing, something soft and lovely and irresistible.  

 _Again, this couldn't happen again_  
_This is that once in a lifetime_  
_This is the thrill divine..._

 The people down below must be slow dancing. Poe nudged Finn and gallantly extended a hand. "Shall we?"

 "Well, we do have the floor to ourselves." Finn laughed as he grabbed Poe's hand. They stood forehead to forehead, rocking from heel to toe with the easy rhythm of the music drifting up from the main floor. The warmth of sawdust and old paint filled the air, the low light kept them safe. They whispered to each other as they danced, Poe correcting missteps, Finn trying not to laugh. But Poe's mind was elsewhere, specifically, the tiny box sitting in his left pocket. It took awhile, but finally he worked up the courage to bring it up, surprise Finn with the news.

"Hey, Finn. There's been something I've been meaning to ask you..."

"Is it at all connected to the rings in your pocket?" Finn asked. Poe blinked and Finn shrugged. "Saw you slip the box into your coat as you were walking out the door, figured you had something planned."

"Goddamn you and your perceptiveness..." Poe sighed. And there go his plans. Finn had a way of doing that, sweeping the rug out from under your feet just when you thought you had the upper hand. Nothing to do but go with it. "Well, constable, since you've obviously taken it upon yourself to ruin every single surprise I ever planned for you, I guess I can just be blunt." He kissed Finn on the cheek and pulled him closer. "I really want to do this with you, Finn. But at the same time, I hate that we'd have to hide it. It means just as much as everyone else’s, doesn't it?"

“'Course it does." Finn assured him. "That's why a proposal makes sense." 

“Does it though? I’m not sure I want to promise you something I can’t give.” Finn smiled and ran his hands over Poe's chest and shoulders. This guy. He could be a complete blockhead when he felt like it.

“What can’t you give me that you haven’t already? Because of you, I’ve got a home. I’ve got a family. You know what that means to an orphan? I’m happy, right where I am. And I'd be happy to promise the rest of my life to you.” He pulled himself closer and rested his head on Poe's shoulder. “But if you don't want to, then that's fine too.” Poe sighed in Finn's ear, a short, frustrated huff.

“It's not that I don't want to. It's that I want it to _mean_ something. Like I said before, I'm not one for empty promises.” He pulled out the rings, the sparkle of them pushing him forwards, egging him on. “For most couples this would mean I’m yours, and you’re mine, and that nothing can change that, right? But what is it to us? I can't promise you "'til death do us part" because it's not up to me. It's up to _them_ and I hate it.” Poe's face twisted itself into a scowl as he spoke, resentment towards the world that wouldn't let them love burning under his skin. Poe ducked his head, trying to hide its flush, but Finn just sighed and tilted his chin back up.

"C'mon, sweetheart. Lighten up." Smiling, Finn cupped Poe's face in his hands, running his thumbs over Poe's cheekbones with gentle pressure. “It’s not up to them. Got that? It's up to me and you. And you wanna know what I think that means? It means that no matter how tough things get, how hard we have to work for it, you’ll still be here. And yeah, you're right, we haven't said our vows, but that doesn't really matter, does it? We’ve held ourselves to them, every single day. And in my books that means we’re more married than any big ceremony or piece of paper could make us." He smiled and kissed Poe on the nose. "I love you, Poe Dameron. Sun in my sky, song of my heart, wind in my sails and the very air I breath. That's what you are to me, that and so much more." 

Hearing that admonition Poe blinked and raised his head, staring at Finn like he'd just fallen from the sky. And for all Poe knew that may have actually happened. Maybe a long time ago his guardian angel had leant out a little too far and tumbled down to Earth, had named himself Finn and set about looking for his other half. And somehow Finn had found him, right when Poe needed him most. Maybe this was a meant-to-be, after all. Poe let himself indulge in the revery for a minute or so, then he laughed himself out of his romantic stupor and grinned. The brandy must be getting to him.

"You sappy son of a bitch..." Poe slipped the ring onto Finn's finger and kissed his hand, a smile beginning to tug at his lips. Finn's smile already stretched from ear to ear and Poe thought that it may just get stuck that way. Not that that would be a problem. "I love you."

"I love you too. And who knows? Maybe one day we will be able to have that wedding.” Finn pointed out.

“Not in our lifetime…”   

 _Mine to hold as I'm holding you now and yet never so near_  
_Mine to have when the now and the here disappear..._

“Well, good thing I’ve got a plan, then. You and me, we’re gonna live a long, happy life together. When we die I’ll find you in the afterlife and we’ll go see God, ask if he’ll make an exception to the Adam and Eve rule just this once. After all, how can he say no to two war heroes?” Finn wiggled his fingers, smiling at the silver glinting back at him. “It’s a match made in heaven, so why not have the wedding there too?”

“You think we’ll last a lifetime?” Poe asked, his voice gone soft. 

_We'll have this moment forever_  
_But never, never again..._

 Finn slipped the ring onto Poe's finger and nodded.

“I do.”


	7. Central Park, 1949

“So help me God I will handcuff you to this bed if you don’t stay down.” Finn threatened as he walked back into the bedroom. He had caught Poe red-handed, one leg in his flight suit. Son of a bitch had actually thought he'd be able to pull a fast one on him, sneak off to the airfield while Finn had his back turned. Yeah, right. "Bed. Right now." he insisted, setting down the tray he'd brought. Poe sighed and shrugged off his jacket, stripping down to his shorts under Finn's watchful gaze and settling back into the pillows with groggy resentment on his face.

“You're overreacting...” Poe sniffled as Finn tucked the blankets around him. He let Finn fuss with the pillows for a bit, but he drew the line when he tried spooning soup into his mouth. “Quit mothering me, would you? I can go to work…”

“You’re gonna sneeze when you’re flying and hit the self-destruct button with your nose.” Finn predicted. He kissed Poe’s sweaty forehead and wiped it with a damp cloth. “The worst part is that this was completely avoidable. What made you think running out there was a good idea?”

“The ice was a lot thinner than it looked.” Poe mumbled. The week before they’d been in Central Park and Poe, for some reason, had felt the urge to test the strength of the ice coating Turtle Pond. Needless to say, that hadn’t turned out well. He’d managed to hide his symptoms for a good week, but last night he finally gave in and dragged Finn back into the bedroom when he tried to go back to his apartment. Poe spent the night curled up with his head in Finn's lap, his grumpy whines and coughing fits interspersed with Finn's smug laughter. But for all his teasing, Finn proved himself to be an excellent nurse. Poe almost wanted to give in and let the guy baby him, but he still had some dignity. Not much, but it was somewhere in there.

"Open up." Finn prodded a thermometer into Poe's mouth and glanced at the temperature. He let out a low whistle and shook his head. “Geez, you are old and frail after all. I'm putting you under house arrest. There’s soup on the stove and I got Rey on standby if you need anything else.”

“You make it sound like I’m dying. It’s just the sniffles…” Finn shook his head and squeezed the excess water out of his washcloth.

“You’re running a fever of a hundred and one and you’ve been coughing since Tuesday. That’s some persistent sniffles. What you need is rest, got that? And for God’s sake don’t go out and try to run errands. It’s freezing out there.”

"But we've run out of milk, and I'm pretty sure the apples are spoiled, and I still haven't fixed the radiator..." Finn took the opportunity to shove a spoonful of soup into Poe's mouth, shutting him up. Now he would have the chance to get a word in edgewise.

"No errands, no chores, no nothing. You're spending all day in bed. I'll join you later. But you won't be getting any rest when I do, I can promise you that." Poe spat out the spoon and raised an eyebrow, a sly smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"What's the occasion?"

"Don't tell me you've forgotten." Finn chastised. "Only three years in, and you're already forgetting things. You not gonna be able to remember my birthday, next?"

"C'mon, I'm not that old..." Poe glanced at the calendar on his desk and smiled. Well, wouldn’t you know? “But if it means that much to you, happy anniversary, Finn.” He pushed himself up and kissed Finn on the cheek, holding back a cough. "I didn't forget, by the way. I was gonna take you to this art house in Chelsea. They've got some Picasso on loan from France and I thought you'd want to go."

After all this time, Poe still didn't get the appeal of abstract. It all just looked like a bunch of fancy triangles to him. But the opportunity to see Finn light up, start babbling about the differences between analytical cubism and synthetic cubism, the significance of the African period, that would make the trip worth it. Honestly, Poe would spend the rest of his life staring at paintings he didn't understand if it meant seeing Finn smile like that. "So, you in?"

Finn nodded, eyes already dreamy with anticipation. "That sounds incredible. I wonder if they've got anything from his Rose period. That's my favourite. Although the Crystal period's a close second. Not a fan of his early stuff, if I'm completely honest. "The Frugal Repast" gave me nightmares..."

"I hope you know I don't understand a word." Poe mumbled. Finn laughed and pushed him back into the pillows.

"The gallery should be fun, then. Three years, huh? Who’d’ve thought?” He rested the back of his hand on Poe's clammy cheek and sighed. “Fever's not going down anytime soon. Stay in bed. We’ll celebrate when you’re back on your feet, alright?” Poe mumbled something indistinct, eyes fluttering shut. But it sounded like an agreement so Finn let the matter drop. He made sure Poe was asleep then kissed the tip of his nose. "I hope you feel better soon, flyboy," he whispered.

"That's gross, Finn." a voice behind him complained. Finn snorted and turned to find Bebe standing at the foot of the bed, swinging back and forth on the footboard, holding the cat in one hand. She'd left the door open and the hum of the radio danced into the room, nothing too loud, fortunately. "Why do grownups kiss all the time? It's gross."

"You'll change your tune soon enough, kiddo," he promised her. Bebe shook her head insistently and let Ruiz wriggle out of her arms and plop himself down on the bed. They watched him waddle across the sea of blankets and curl up on Poe's chest, purring. Finn sighed and turned to Bebe. "He's fat. Have you been feeding him your leftovers again?” He scooped Ruiz up, weighing him in his hands. "Geez, he's as heavy as you were when I first met you..."

"He's no fatter than Braque." Bebe protested. Finn rolled his eyes and herded her out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. "It must be genetic, seeing as how she's his Mamá."

"Let the old lady be. She's a relic. Ruiz, on the other hand, he's got no excuse." Bebe pouted and crossed her arms over her chest. "Maybe ease up on the cat chow from now on, kiddo."

“He's not fat. His fur just makes him look poofy. How’s Papá?” she asked suddenly. She always changed the subject when Finn pried into Ruiz's eating habits. That cat was spoiled rotten. Finn sighed and gathered his uniform off of the ironing board standing in the living room.

"Asleep. Don't bother him and don’t you dare get sick too.”

“I can’t help it if I do.” Bebe stuck her tongue out at him and fiddled with the dials on the radio. They'd bought it new last year, but it was already scratched by cat claws and stained with pastels and engine grease. Nothing stayed clean in the house no matter how diligently Poe scrubbed and tidied. He was like the Sisyphus of housework, poor guy.

On his way back to the bedroom Finn looked out the window and shivered. How was Bebe supposed to walk to school in that? “Geez. I'm surprised they didn't give you kids a snow day...”

"They did." Finn blinked at her and she shrugged. "The radio said so earlier."

"Oh. Well. What d'you want to do?"

"Can I go play with my friends? When there's no school we all meet on the corner." Finn smiled and ruffled her curls. Oh, to be a kid during a snow storm. Sure beat being a grown-up and getting stuck in sludgy traffic.

"Go ahead. Wear a scarf and your galoshes, and bring extra socks. Stay with the other kids and don't lick any lampposts."

"Why would I do that?"

"I've asked myself that question since the winter of '32." Bebe giggled and Finn kissed her on the top of the head. "Yeah yeah, I was a stupid kid. Don't hurt yourself, got that? Now go get dressed."

Getting dressed turned out to be something of an ordeal. Finn wanted to be sure that there was no chance of Bebe catching a cold. He made her put on an extra pair of socks, bundled her up in two sweaters and a coat, dug her sleigh out of the closet after she promised not to aim it at the pond, and only then was Bebe allowed to waddle out the door, spare mittens in her pocket and one of Poe's scarves wrapped around her cheekbones.

Finn retreated to the bedroom and peeked out from between the window shades, watching Bebe trudge over to the gaggle of other fourth-graders huddled around a lamppost. Wouldn't you know, one of them already had his tongue stuck to it. Finn snorted and let the curtain drop back into place. What he wouldn't give to be out there right now, hiding in an igloo or building a snowman.

Unfortunately, police officers didn't get snow days. Finn sighed and began to dress, thankful that he'd ironed his uniform the night before. He'd have to take the front door of the building during rush hour so he'd best look sharp. Still risky, though. He had meant to go home last night when it wasn't storming outside and the other tenants were asleep. Finn glanced at the window but dismissed the thought. Even he wasn't dumb enough to climb out on a metal fire escape in a blizzard. Why did Poe have to get sick today? Finn was about to get annoyed, then the culprit groaned in his sleep and he relented, pressing a kiss to Poe's cheek and running a hand through his damp curls. Oh well, at least he was in uniform. No one could question him too much. Hopefully.

The hallway was empty and the same was to be said for the stairwell. Finn was almost home free when a woman surprised him in the foyer, tea in one hand and mail in the other. Well, there goes his morning. Time for unwarranted suspicion and that pale look doing a bad job of hiding disgust. Finn was rather familiar with that look. Not sure if that's something to be proud of, but he was.

As he stepped aside to let her pass she pulled her flowered robe closer around herself and looked him up and down. For Christ's sake, what'd she think he was going to do? Finn almost rolled his eyes, but he caught himself just in time. "Ma'am," he said politely, tipping his hat. Her disbelieving eyes rested on the badge on his chest. "No need to be alarmed. Just a follow-up investigation, nothing out of the ordinary."

"Why did they send you? Don't coloureds patrol their own part of town?" she asked sourly. Finn forced the smile to stay on his face, even as his mind cycled through some of the more vulgar words in his vocabulary.

"I was the only officer in the area. Good day, ma'am," he said, stepping around her. Walking out of the door he could feel her eyes on the back of his neck, the pale blue daggers honed with revulsion. _Hello to you too, neighbour._ Finn thought. He sighed and flipped up the collar of his coat to guard against the cold as he pushed open the door and struck out into the blustery street.

 

\- ————————— -

 

Poe didn't like being useless. He tried, for Finn's sake, to do nothing but lie in bed and stare at the ceiling when he woke up, but if he kept that up he was sure he'd go insane. After counting all the nooks and crannies in the wall for the second time he groaned and sat up with a sneeze. It must be what, three o'clock by now? He glanced over at the clock and blinked. It was a quarter-past nine.

So what if his estimate had been a little off? There were plenty of ways to kill the remaining eight hours until Finn got home. He finished off the cold soup on the bedside table, combed Ruiz when he waddled in for a visit, flipped through the sketchbook Finn kept tucked under his pillow, and when things got really desperate he picked up the model plane on the windowsill and started to play with that, acting out a dogfight between a hostile UFO (also known as his tea saucer), and the miniature P-51. After the alien attack had been fended off and the brave pilot had won the Medal of Honour Poe glanced at the clock again, figuring it must be around four in the afternoon.

A more accurate number would be half-past nine.

"Motherfucker..." he said hoarsely. Maybe he should make tea. That was somewhat productive. Happy to have a goal in mind he eased out of bed with a quilt around his shoulders and the cat snuggled to his chest like a fuzzy hot water bottle. And hey, while he was up, it wouldn't hurt to get some other work done. While the kettle boiled he grabbed the phone and dialled Ben's number. He had meant to look over some schematics today, and he may be able to cajole Ben into dropping them off for him.

When the phone was two rings from ringing out someone finally picked up. The reception wasn't very warm, though. "This's the phone in Ben's part of the hangar. I'm not Ben. Why're you calling him."

“Hey, Han. Is Ben there?” Poe rasped. He could hear Han cringe on the other end. For whatever reason the hard-bitten smuggler turned war hero had a strange horror of getting sick.

“You sound dead.” Han said bluntly. Poe hacked out a laugh before another coughing fit almost made him drop the receiver. "Christ, kid, take care of yourself, wouldya? Drink some tea, take a nap. I'm getting a cold just listening to you. Doesn't Finn take care of you?"

Han had been looped into all this at the Christmas party two years ago. As it turns out, drunk Finn and mistletoe were a risky combination. Poe laughed at the memory, even though at the time it had been mortifying. “It was my own fault. But I need to look over the schematics. Ben knows which ones I'm talking about."

"I'll send him over. In the meantime go drink a bottle of rotgut and lay down. That’s what I do when I’m sick. It’s kept me alive so far.”

“Thanks for the advice. Bye, Han.” Poe hung up and glanced at Ruiz, who was scratching around the cupboard where they kept his food. "You can keep a secret, right?" he asked. Ruiz sneezed and flicked his tail. "Good." Sure, Poe felt a little bad for breaking a promise, but what Finn didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Besides, he'd have everything cleaned up by the time Finn came back home at five.

 

\- ————————— -

 

"Traitor." Finn sighed, leaning up against the doorframe with Bebe at his side. He'd dropped by the park at one for a report and she'd informed him that half an hour ago she'd seen Uncle Ben disappear into the apartment with a mysterious satchel, reappearing a minute later empty-handed. They went to investigate, and what did they find but Poe sitting on the bedroom floor with a guilty grin on his face, surrounded by schematics and diagrams of the Falcon.

"I told you." Bebe said triumphantly. Finn pat her on the shoulder and dropped a toffee into her hand.

"Thanks, detective. You can go back outside now. Your team needs you for that snowball war." She nodded and rushed out the door, giggling.

"Bribery's still your go-to for childcare, huh?" Poe coughed. Finn rolled his eyes and draped a blanket over Poe's shoulders. "Rey wanted me to look these blueprints over for her, see if I had anything to add. These updates she's making are pretty damn extensive..." Finn hooked his arms under Poe's armpits and dragged him over to the bed.

"One day, that's all I ask." he sighed as Poe climbed dutifully under the blankets. "Good thing that murder case wrapped itself up. I got the rest of the day off, for that. Means I can make sure you don't get up to anything you shouldn't. Lunch's in ten minutes." Poe nodded, but his eyes were already sidling back over to his work. Finn pinned Poe's arms above his head and shook his head. "Don't even think about it."

"But I just-" Without a word Finn pressed his lips to Poe's. It wasn't one of their usual kisses, the quick pecks behind Bebe's back or those tired nuzzles in the middle of the night. This was a good and proper lip-biting, heart-stopping, head-spinning, romance novel type of kiss. They rarely had time for those, nowadays. When Finn pulled away Poe exhaled the breath he hadn't known he was holding and sighed. "Wow..."

"Mm," Finn smiled and pushed Poe back into the pillows, arms still above his head. "Rest, got that?" Poe nodded and tried to reach out and pull Finn into another kiss. But when he found he couldn't he tilted his head back and cussed. Finn's handcuffs winked at him in the light, the metal smooth against the inner skin of his wrists. The son of a bitch had shackled him to the bed. He turned to see Finn sitting just out of reach with a smug grin on his face. "I will get you." Poe promised darkly. That just made Finn laugh.

"This's your own fault. I did warn you, remember?" he said sagely. He kissed the tip of Poe's nose and rolled out of bed. "Happy anniversary, Dameron."

"Fuck you..."

"Maybe later."

  
\- ————————— -

  
_Restraints, buckling him to a metal gurney, flickering yellow lights above him and the sickly, sanitised smell of a hospital. Finn wrinkled up his nose and realised someone was talking to him, their wheezy voice bursting with anticipation._

_"This'll fix you, boy. This'll fix that screwed up head of yours..."_

_"There's nothing wrong with me." Finn's voice sounded strange in his ears, buzzing and airy. Something brushed his arm and he turned. There was a needle poised above him, tranquillizer dripping from the tip. The nurse holding it shushed him as they wheeled through the double doors into the unlit operating theatre, air stale with blood and formaldehyde. She smiled, whispering with a voice like honey._

_"A lobotomy never hurt anybody. Think of it like a haircut. Just a little trim, just a bit off the top. This way, you'll be rid of all those nasty, dirty feelings. Isn't it wonderful? Now be good and let me put you to sleep. Let me take all of this away."_

_"But I don't want to go." Finn protested weakly. The nurse's grip on his shoulder tightened and he squirmed, trying to orient himself in the dark. "I won't, you can't make me..."_

 

\- ————————— -

 

"No, please don't. Please..." Finn muttered in his sleep. Poe shook him harder, brow creased with concern.

"Finn? Finn, baby, wake up." Poe whispered in his ear. Poe pressed a hand to Finn's cheek and he gasped, eyes startling open with a yell as he bolted upright. "I'm right here, _amor_. Don't worry." For awhile Finn stared at Poe with wild confusion, chest heaving and skin shiny with sweat. But after a minute of Poe's hands on his arms, his chest, touch familiar and sure, Finn shuddered and flopped over, squishing his face into Poe's soft tummy with a sigh. "There's nothing to be scared of, I promise."

"Gonna take me away..." Finn managed, voice sluggish with sleep. "They were..."

"You're not going anywhere. None of us are." Finn hugged himself to Poe's chest, letting the salty-sweet sweat of his skin wash the nightmare away, let it pull the pictures back out to sea. When it had all gone out with the tide he opened his eyes and nodded, tilting his head up to kiss Poe's chin, stubble rough against his lips.

"Okay. Sorry for waking you. Feel any better?" he asked. Poe nodded, but a rattling cough betrayed him. "Lies."

“C’mon, I really do feel better than before. Well enough for what you had in mind earlier, at any rate." he added coyly, hands travelling down the length of Finn’s body. Smiling, Finn threw a glance at the door before pulling himself into Poe’s lap and catching his lips in a chaste kiss.

"Don't push yourself. You're not as young as you once were. Four years and you'll be forty."

"And you, God, you'll just be thirty-one..." Poe groaned as Finn tugged at the strands of grey in his hair. "I feel old."

"Young at heart, though." Finn pointed out. He pulled Poe into a quick kiss and nuzzled against his scratchy cheek. "Besides, this whole age gap is a good thing. When you're old and frail you'll have me to push your wheelchair, spoon pureed yams into your mouth, change your diaper..." Poe rolled his eyes and dug into the drawer on the bedside table. "Honestly, I'm a goddamned martyr."

"Let me say thank you in advance, then." At the offer Finn's eyes lit up with a familiar light. He smiled at Poe and kissed him on the nose, rocking his hips and humming in anticipation.

"I thought you'd never ask. Best do it while we can, seeing as how your days are numbered." Finn laughed. Poe snorted and rolled Finn onto his stomach.

"Maybe so, but I can drive you absolutely wild right now, and I intend to do just that." As he spoke he trailed his slick fingers down the line of Finn's spine and into his shorts. He grinned down at Finn, who wasn't so chatty, all of a sudden. "Sound like a plan?"

Finn whined a garbled plea into his pillow. Apparently the nightmare was completely forgotten. That had been Poe's goal, after all. He smiled and kissed the nape of Finn's neck. “Happy anniversary, Finn."

"And many more to come." he added. Poe smiled and let his lips linger on Finn's skin awhile longer. Words were sort of unnecessary after that.

  
  
\- ————————— -

 

Poe poked his head into Bebe's bedroom and smiled. "Hey, sweetheart. What're you up to?" 

"Nothin'." Bebe mumbled. She was too busy staring at the doll in her arms. It had been a birthday present from Kes, but Bebe rarely played with it. Sometimes Poe watched her sitting cross-legged on the threadbare carpet in her bedroom, the contents of her toy box arranged neatly around her. The other toys, the amputee teddy bear, the sackcloth rag dolls and wooden airplanes, they all participated in the little stories she dreamed up, the trips to the moon or the dives to the bottom of the sea, everywhere a child's mind could go. But the doll, with her lacy pink dress and halo of golden curls, always smiled sweetly from the top of the dresser, a spectator and nothing more. Poe wasn't sure why.

"You want a gingerbread man?" he offered. Bebe glanced at the plate he was holding but shook her head. Huh. Something must be off with her if she didn't want gingerbread. Intent on finding out, Poe put the plate on the bedside table and joined her on the floor. Without a word Bebe crawled into his lap. She didn't fit quite as snugly as she used to but Poe wasn't about to kick her out. He flicked the doll on the nose and grinned at Bebe.

"The doll's pretty. What was her name again? Anna? Angie?"

"Angel. I don't like her." Bebe said sourly. Poe blinked. Well this was news. He had always figured that Bebe thought the doll was too pretty to play with, or maybe she was worried that she would break it. But that did explain a few things Poe had been wondering about. 

Sometimes he'd walk by Bebe's room to see her sitting on her cot with strange intent, the doll in her arms. But she wasn't rocking it back and forth, or adjusting its dress, or whatever it was kids did with dolls. Instead, Bebe would tug at Angel's wavy hair, then run her fingers through her own unmanageable curls, trying to straighten them out to something more like what the doll had. Her fingers would pick at Angel's face, the smooth contours of her baby-blue eyes, the thin ridges of her rosy lips. Bebe's dark eyes would scrunch up, and her mouth would contort itself into a grimace, the same one she was wearing right now. Poe was no mind reader, but if he had to venture a guess he'd say Bebe was at least a little jealous.

He sighed and kissed the top of her head. "What's bothering you, sweetheart? You can tell me." Bebe opened her mouth to say something, but she shut it just as quickly. "C'mon, _cariño_. Whatever it is, I'll listen, and I'll do my best to fix it." Bebe shook her head and sighed in resignation. "Well?"

"The doll's pretty. I'm not." she said quietly. “My skin's not the right colour and I don't have blond hair. I don't look like the girls we see in the movie theatre. Why don’t I look like them?” As she asked she ran her fingers over the face of her doll. "What makes them beautiful and not me?"

"Oh, Bebe..." Poe sighed. "I know we rarely see girls who look like you in movies, and that's a real shame. But there are all sorts of ways to be pretty. Imagine how dull life would be if we all looked the same. You think Finn's handsome, right?" Bebe nodded. "Yeah, and he doesn't look like Clark Gable or Gary Cooper, even though people say only people who look like them are handsome. It's not what other people think that's important. What's important is that you're comfortable in your own skin. Why don't you think you're beautiful?" he asked bluntly.

"Because..." Bebe shook her head and gave Angel's hair a yank. "Because I don't matter none to nobody. At school nobody's got a crush on me. Everybody likes the girls who look like the ones in the movies, like Heather and Maddy. But they're both mean, and they think they're better than everybody else, so I don't see why everybody likes them so much." 

"That proves it, then. They may look pretty outside, but inside, where it matters, the both of them are ugly people."

"That doesn't change anything, though. Nobody ever looks inside, so the outside's the only thing you ever see. So I guess that's the only thing that matters to people. I'm not ugly, and I'm not pretty. I'm just nothing." That was her heartbreaking conclusion. Poe couldn't let her believe that, not for another second.

"Come with me, Bebe." He tugged her to her feet and led her into his room, setting her down on the bed while he scooped a picture frame off of the shelf. He sat down beside her and handed her the old photograph. "Who's the lady in this picture?" 

"My abuela." Bebe answered. She was holding Kes and Shara's wedding photo, decades old now, but still in perfect condition. The dark gloss of Kes' hair hadn't faded, and Shara's white dress still glowed like fresh snow. Even in the black and white world of the picture you could still catch the playful glint in her eyes, the ironic twist of her lips. Hard to imagine how vibrant she would have been in person. Poe squeezed Bebe's shoulders and smiled at her.

"And you think she's beautiful, right?" Bebe nodded without a moment's hesitation. "You look just like her. She was very good looking. That's not what made her beautiful, though. She was beautiful because she was a wonderful person. You could tell just by looking at her how kind and brave she was. She could light up a room with her smile, just like you can. She could fly anything, she could fix anything, she was a storyteller and the best part was that every single story was true." He watched Bebe run her fingers over the folds and ruffles on Shara's dress. "She could do all this and her skin was the exact same colour as yours."

"Really?" Bebe sighed. 

"Yes. I bet that when she was a little girl, she felt the same way that you did just now. But as she got older, she realised that what people think of you isn't what makes you important or good. You may think the doll's perfect, or that those girls are the best people in the world. But Maddy, is she the fastest runner in her class? Can Heather jump down from a tree without getting hurt, or recite all the parts of a Spitfire engine like you can?" After a moment's pause, Bebe shook her head. "That's not nothing, and you're not nothing. You're not a toy, Bebe, and you're not just here to look pretty. You're special and important, and one day you won't need me to tell you that. Got it?" Bebe nodded, smiling from ear to ear. "Good."

"I'd still like to be pretty, though..." she said wheedlingly, trying to hide a giggle. Well, now she was just digging for compliments. Here was the Bebe that Poe knew. He ruffled her hair and smiled.

"The prettiest girl in New York. Happy? Now go play." 

As Bebe rushed off Poe happened to glance into the bedroom mirror. These days he didn't tend to linger on his reflection, for whatever reason. He fidgeted for a bit, pulling back his shoulders, sucking in his gut, then he gave up and went into the kitchen, where he found Finn putting the finishing touches on his gingerbread house.

"Hey, Finn?" he ventured. 

"Mm..." Finn answered without looking up, too intent on the tiny snowman he was building. Poe rocked back and forth on his heels, chewing on his bottom lip. He couldn't believe what he was about to ask.

"Am I pretty?" he said slowly.

"Absolutely gorgeous." Finn promised without missing a beat.  

"Oh, okay." He sat down beside Finn and rested his chin on his shoulder. He watched him sculpt a bit of marzipan into a tiny top hat before piping up again. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Really _really_ sure?" 

"For Christ's sake..." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can write winter fluff in June if I want to, dammit. No one can stop me.


	8. Far Rockaway, 1950

Finn hopped off the bus and trudged the couple blocks to Poe's apartment, walking as slowly as possible. Rey had just kicked him out of the hangar and the keys to his apartment were in his other coat, which he'd left on Poe's couch, unfortunately. So here he was, on the walk of shame that always follows storming out during an argument.

The streets were littered with week-old party hats and broken bottles, all that remained of New Year’s Eve festivities. Their building still had streamers dangling from some of the windows. They'd just hit 1950 if you can believe it. A whole new decade for the world to fuck up. Finn couldn't wait. As he walked he played back the fight in his head. It had started with Poe mentioning that hey, wouldn't it be great if Finn moved in permanently? Now that segregation was officially over, they could really be a family. Finn had rolled his eyes, Poe had asked what was funny, and it had all gone downhill from there.

_C'mon, Poe. Have you seen how your neighbours look at me when I'm in uniform? Like I'm a bug they'd like to squish but can't. I don't think they'd take kindly to meeting me on the way to fetch the mail._

_Well, maybe we could move in with you, then._

_Into that cell? There's barely enough room for me and a cat, let alone two other people._

_Then what d'you suggest we do?_

_Why do anything? We're fine the way things are._

_I thought you wanted to be a family._

_Yeah, but to everyone else, we don't exactly look like a family, now do we? Two grown men living with a nine-year-old girl, what d'you think people are gonna think's going on? The police'll be knocking on our door before I have the chance to unpack._

_But..._

_I can't stay here. It'll only make things worse. What's so hard to understand about that? Why can't you get it through your head that I'm not welcome here?_

Finn bit his lip and sighed at the front door. After that it had all gone to shit. They may have stooped to name-calling, but Finn didn't want to remember anymore. He just wanted to fix it.

It was late enough that he could walk into the building without fear of meeting anyone. Not for the first time, he wondered how they’d manage when he got too old to clamber up and down fire escapes. Maybe Poe would have to hoist him up with a pulley. That is, if he still wanted to see him after tonight. His hand hesitated on the door knob of their apartment. Well, here goes nothing.

In the living room he found Bebe asleep on the couch, the cat curled up on her back. He shook her shoulder and ran his hand through her mussed curls when she blinked herself awake. "What're you doing out of bed, kiddo?"

"I got up to get water and the light went out. The hall's scary when it's dark." Finn bit back a laugh and scooped her up. She latched onto his neck and buried her face in his collar. "Aren't you scared?" she asked in a whisper.

"It's the same place as it is during the day." he pointed out. "Look, nothing bad's gonna happen, alright? I promise." As he carried her to her bedroom she opened her eyes for a split second before squeezing them shut again. At nine, Bebe was as terrified of the dark as she had been at five. Maybe she should have grown out of it by now, but rushing her wouldn't help. Overcoming fears was all well and good, but Finn wasn't about to send the kid into the lion's den by herself. While he was tucking her in she woke up enough to ask him a question.

"Are you still mad at Papá?" she mumbled into her pillow. Finn sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. So she had heard them. He had thought that they'd managed to keep the volume down, at least. "Are you?"

"I wasn't mad at him." Finn assured her.

"Sure sounded like you were." she yawned.

"I wasn't, we just had a misunderstanding."

"What's that?"

"It's when two people have different opinions about something, and while they're trying to get the other person to see things the way they do, they wind up hurting each other's feelings."

"Oh. Can you fix it?" Well, Finn sure hoped he could. But he just nodded and kissed Bebe on the forehead. 

"Of course. Don't worry about it, alright? Sweet dreams."

The floors squeaked and creaked as he made his way over to the kitchen, sighing in relief when hardwood changed to tile. They should really put down some carpeting or something, he figured as he poured himself some coffee. It was impossible to move around quietly in this house.

"Finn?" When he heard that Finn jumped and whirled around, nearly upsetting his mug. Well, it was impossible to move around quietly if you weren't Poe. The guy was like a bobcat. He was leaning against the fridge with a blanket wrapped around himself, squinting at Finn in the light. "When'd you get back?"

"Just now."

"You coming to bed?" Finn couldn't help but notice that Poe was twisting up his blanket in his fingers, a quiet, nervous sort of gesture. At least he wasn't mad anymore, but then again, that look on his face was new, and Finn wasn't quite sure what it meant. Probably best to find out.

"Yeah." He followed Poe into the bedroom and shivered. Christ, it was like walking onto an ice rink. Goosebumps popped up on his arms and legs as he undressed and he wondered, for the billionth time, how Poe had managed when he was sleeping by himself. "You still haven't fixed the heater, have you?" As Poe nodded he lifted the covers so that Finn could crawl in beside him, which he did, slow and sheepish because he still wasn't quite sure where they stood after all this. He opened his mouth to ask, but Poe beat him to it.

“I still don’t see why you can’t just move in with us.” he mumbled as he took Finn's hand, running his fingers over the silver band on his ring finger.    

“It’s too risky.” Finn reminded him, running his free hand through Poe's bedhead. "I'm happy the way things are. If you're not we can figure something out, but having me live here wouldn't be the answer. I'm sorry for snapping at you, but it wasn't exactly a conversation I want to have, y'know? I hate being reminded that I'll always be separated from you."

“It wasn't just that,” Poe said quietly. He pulled Finn into a hug and sighed against his temple. “Of course, I want to share a place with you, but it's not just that. I know it's stupid, but I want you to meet Dad. I want you to go to Bebe's recitals. I want to share _you_ , ‘cause you’re incredible, and they’d all love you if they let themselves. You are welcome here, Finn. If people just..."

“People are more stuck in their ways than you think.” Finn interjected, keeping his voice soft.

“I know, I get it, but maybe if…” Finn wrapped Poe’s arms tighter around himself and snuggled against his chest with a sigh. “Maybe…”

“You can’t change people who don’t want to change, Poe. You’ll go insane trying.” Finn insisted. “And I don’t want to be the reason you get hurt.” Poe screwed up his face and let out a frustrated groan.

"This's bullshit." he complained. Finn nodded and closed his eyes, barely stirring when Poe tried shaking him awake, the way he always did when he got an idea late at night. "Hey, if people are the problem, then I say we just leave. Pack up and go someplace far away. Someplace warm and quiet where you could come and go as you pleased, and I wouldn't have to worry about where you were all the time. Someplace where we could be a proper family."

"We are a proper family." Finn murmured as he drifted off. Poe didn't notice, too wrapped up in the point he was trying to get across.

"I know that, but I want everyone else to know it, too. I belong to you, and you belong to me, and I want me and you to belong somewhere. Does that make sense?" he asked. But Finn was already asleep in his arms, breath warm and quiet against his collarbone. Poe sighed and gently removed Finn's glasses, still talking because he was starting to get attached to his little daydream. "I think it does. Y'know where I'd take you if I could? Out in the country, where the closest neighbours are a dozen acres away, that's where we'd go. We'd have an orchard and a chicken coop and barn cats and we'd name every single one of their kittens. You and me, we wouldn't have to hide a thing. Imagine that, Finn. Doing whatever we want, whenever we want, because there's no one to tell us we can't, no one there but the two of us. And Bebe, of course, but she'd move out eventually..."

He spun out the dream long into the night, building a home stone by stone in his head. A big, sturdy, green and white clapboard house, blue smoke winding out of the chimney, ivy climbing snug walls and a porch swing swaying in the gentle breeze. It was a dream of soft fields and an empty sky, of drawn out days and starlit nights, winters and summers flowing into each other uninterrupted by fear or suspicion, an ease of mind he could never hope to find here. That's the home he'd build for them, that's the dream he'd bring to life. "I'll take you there, someday." he promised as his eyes closed. "I'll find it, and I'll take you there. Someday, Finn. Just you wait..."

 

\- ————————— -

 

"Haven't seen you around in ages, Lou. Why don't you come up for a cuppa?" Finn offered. Lou had spent the night on the stoop of Finn's apartment, and Finn had happened on him when he was coming home after an all-nighter at the station. Seeing as how it had been a good two years since they'd last met, right about now would be a great time to rekindle fond memories, and maybe get Lou to tell a far-fetched war story or two.

"I wouldn't want to intrude, but if you insist..." Finn grinned broadly and hoisted Lou to his feet. 

"Great, I'll get the kettle on."

"It'll have to be quick, though. I've things to do, people to see. I may be a vagrant, but I'm a busy one." Lou pointed out as they climbed the stairs, scratching his beard thoughtfully. It had taken a couple years for Finn to notice the prosthetic right hand, probably because Lou was always wearing gloves. But when you did see it, it was hard to forget. Shiny steel and brass that has been polished to the point of being mirror-like, it moved as smooth as flesh and bone, whirring softly with tiny mechanisms hidden in the forearm. Decades ahead of any limb Finn had ever seen, and he'd seen many. The story behind that had yet to be divulged. Maybe he'd get lucky today.

"What were you doing out and about at this hour?" Lou asked while Finn dug in his pocket for his keys.

"A lot of paperwork. There's a case I'm on that's gotten pretty messy..." Figuratively and literally. The mafia was back with a vengeance, and of course Finn's precinct was at the heart of it all. Lucky that they would have no truck with him. Another cop had already been shot for turning down the Don's proposition of cash in exchange for invulnerability, and since Finn wasn't worthy of such offers, he was safe. Sort of. "We had a lead and the inspector was dead set on following it, wherever it may take us. And boy, it took us for a ride. I can't spill the beans, but there's a chance that one of Don's cronies is sitting in there waiting for me with a shot gun." Finn laughed. 

"Not to alarm you, but I think that's the case." Lou told him. "There's someone inside."

"Well, I've got a cat." Finn pointed out as he opened the door, unconcerned. "You're probably imagining things, You must be tired after-"

 "Hey, sweetheart." Poe called out from the kitchen. Oh, well, that was unexpected. Suddenly on edge, Finn turned to Lou, who had raised his eyebrows, but not for the reason Finn feared.

"Now, that's a voice I haven't heard in a long time." he mused. He made his way across the room with Finn trotting fretfully behind him. In the kitchen Poe was rummaging in the cupboards and humming, blissfully unaware of what was happening.

"Sorry for not calling," Poe continued without turning around. "But there was a fire a block down from our place. The ash brought back Bebe's allergies. She's borrowing the bed, if you don't-oh." He turned to see Lou, and his voice got smaller all of a sudden. "You're not..." That's when Finn jumped in, making a desperate attempt to save this train wreck of an encounter. 

"Poe, this's Lou. Lou, this's-"

"Poe Dameron." Lou cut Finn off, a smile making his beard twitch. He shook his head and rested against the door frame with a laugh. "You're Shara Bey's boy. I remember you when you were knee-high to a grasshopper. And now look at you..." He looked from Poe to the calendar on the far wall. "How long have I been gone?"

"Is that you, Luke? You gotta be kidding me." Poe grinned at Finn, who was looking very confused at the moment. "It's alright, Finn. He's Leia's brother. We'll be fine." Finn nodded slowly, his expression shifting from terrified to awestruck in a matter of seconds. 

"Wait, Luke Skywalker? You're Luke Skywalker?" he turned to Poe, slack-jawed and wide-eyed. "He's Luke Skywalker?"

"Yup." Poe said bluntly. "And?" 

Finn sputtered indignantly, gesturing wildly to try and get the importance of his point across. "What's there to "and?" about? He's Luke Skywalker! He spearheaded the advance at St. Mihiel. He gunned down 18 Germans during the Spring Offensive. I knew you weren't making those stories up! I know Luke Skywalker!" he repeated, even louder this time.

For a war hero, Finn seemed to get a childish joy out of meeting other war heroes. It was adorable, actually. What Poe wouldn't give to watch him get starry-eyed listening to Luke's stories, but right now, what Finn needed was sleep. After the frenzied adrenaline wore off the poor guy would crash and burn harder than a lead zeppelin. He rested a hand on Finn's arm and squeezed, gently directing him towards the bedroom.

"Go take a nap, alright?" he told him. "You look exhausted."

"What?" Finn's face fell and he cast a longing glance at Luke, who was helping himself to the coffee warming on the stove. It was the exact same expression that Bebe got when she saw her birthday gift before being allowed to open it. "But..."

"I'll be staying with the Solos, so you can just come over to the hangar sometime." Luke assured him. "Then we can have that chat you promised me. Go on, now. Don't want you collapsing on parade." Poe sent Finn on his way, holding back his laughter. When Finn was settled Poe went back to the kitchen to find Luke sitting with Finn's cat in his lap. He looked up at Poe and smirked.

"He's something of a history buff." Poe explained. 

"I'm history? Am I that old?" Luke laughed.

"Okay, I'll admit that that came out wrong. So what brings you here, Luke?"

"Leia and Han, they've adopted a child, haven't they? Rey, I believe her name was?" Poe raised an eyebrow and pulled up a chair, grabbing his mug from the counter.

"You're late by, I don't know, a little over ten years? Where've you been all this time?"

"Places," Luke said as he scratched a purring Braque under her chin. Poe nodded, but when Luke didn't elaborate he tried again.

"Doing what?"

"Things." Poe sighed and left it at that, knowing that he wouldn't get any more out of him. Apparently, Luke was known for disappearing without notice and being infuriatingly cryptic when he did come back. "Anyways, Leia suspects that Rey's, how to put this, of our ilk." He raised his eyebrows at Poe, who nodded in understanding. Yeah, he knew what Luke was talking about.

After a lifetime of working with them, Poe had come to the conclusion that the Solos and Skywalkers were very odd people. He never brought it up, but Leia seemed to have the mysterious ability to pluck thoughts straight out of his head, while Ben could literally paralyse him with a look. Once, and Poe swore on his pilot's license that this was true, he'd walked into the hangar to find Rey sitting on the floor with a wrench floating a couple feet above her head. Still hadn't come up with a satisfying explanation for that one.

Finn had a little bit of that strangeness in him as well. It was just little things, like how he could leave cups on the very edge of the table and they still wouldn't fall off, or how he never lost a game of rock-paper-scissors. But most telling of all, Poe didn't have nightmares anymore. A couple years ago they'd just stopped. At first, he figured it was just having someone else in the bed with him that did it, but even when Finn wasn't there he could sleep soundly through the night, something that he hadn't been able to do in years. Poe wondered about that a lot, but he never got a chance to ask about it.

"Earth to Dameron." Luke laughed, shaking Poe's shoulder. Poe blinked out of his thoughtful stupor and shook his head.

"Sorry, lost in thought."

"Hm. I'll let you get ahold of them again, then. At any rate, I should be going." Luke stood and gathered his coat around himself, slipping his gloves back on with a clink. "You're right, you know. Finn is the one who stopped your nightmares."

"Huh?" Poe had been distracted by Braque, who had climbed into his lap and demanded to be petted. "Luke, what does that-" But when he looked up Luke was gone. "The hell..." Poe jumped out of his chair and ran out of the apartment. He looked up and down the hall, sprinted down all twelve flights of stairs, and came up with nothing. A guy Luke's age couldn't possibly move that fast. But then again, as previously stated, the Skywalkers and Solos were very odd people. 

 

\- ————————— -

 

That night Poe ran his thumb over Finn's cheek while the latter shuddered and gasped, trying to shake off the nightmare that had woken the both of them up. Something about squinting up at a circle of white light, hushed voices and a needle in his arm. Finn had that nightmare enough that Poe knew there was nothing to do but let him cry it out. 

"Okay now?" he whispered against Finn's temple when the sobs had quieted to the occasional hiccup.

"Yeah." Finn managed. "Just...don't go to sleep quite yet."

"Alright." Poe lay back down and Finn curled up in his arms. It took him awhile, but eventually he worked up the courage to ask. "Hey, Finn?"

"Mmph."

"This is gonna sound weird, but I have to ask. I haven't had a nightmare in ages. Did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Make them go away," Poe mumbled, his face heating up a little. It sounded absurd when he said it aloud. He waited for the question to get dismissed, but Finn surprised him by nodding. So there actually was something to all this. "How long've you been able to do that?"

"Since forever, I guess. It's how I got the younger kids to sleep at the orphanage. No clue how it works, honestly." A smile tugged at the edges of Finn's lips and he laughed into Poe's neck. "Awhile back you kneed me in the crotch while you were having a bad dream. Ever since then I've made sure that you don't have them anymore, for both our sakes."

"Can you stop your own nightmares?" Finn shook his head and closed his eyes with a sigh. "I'm sorry I can't help..."

"Don't say that. You're here." Finn snuggled against Poe's chest and kissed his collarbone. "That's more than enough. You staying here is more than enough."

"If you say so. Good thing I plan to stay for a really long time, then."

"How long are we talking?"

"How long d'you plan on being alive?" 

"Longer than you, old man." Finn teased. 

"I'll just haunt you, then. You're stuck with me for life, remember?" Poe waggled his left hand, showing off the lighter strip of skin on his ring finger. "Heaven would be lonely without you."

"That a fact?" Finn laughed. Poe nodded and kissed him on the cheek.

"Wherever you go, I'll be right behind you." Poe said softly. Finn brought Poe's hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles. "We'll always be together, no matter what."

"No matter what." Finn agreed. "Promise."

At the time, hearing that made Poe's heart soar. Him and Finn, always together, facing every challenge head-on and hand in hand, there was a promise that he'd be more than happy to swear himself to, no matter what. 

But the devil's in the details, and that proved to be true for them in the worst way possible. August of 1950 was an important month, brimming with events to be remembered. Bebe would start fifth grade soon, Finn was being considered for a promotion, and continents away, South Korea's forces had been pushed back to the Pusan Perimeter by the KPA. They needed soldiers, pilots, and they needed them desperately.

Guess who fit the bill.

 

\- ————————— -

 

“You must be joking." Karé groaned.

"Pinch me and tell me I'm dreaming." Jessika pleaded Snap, who was sitting on the arm of her chair with wide eyes and a slack jaw.

"What the fuck." Rey said with her mouth full. Leia shot her a look and Rey swallowed around the sandwich she was gnawing on. "Sorry. What the fuck."

Poe and his squadron were squashed into Leia's office, perched up on tables and windowsills because there weren't enough chairs. In the back of the room, Poe was wedged between Han and Ben, whose faces were set in identical scowls. As for Poe, the news was taking its time sinking in, the words still churning around inside his head. When they finally sank in Poe blinked and looked at Leia.

"How soon are we being deployed?" he asked.

"Poe..." Karé began to complain, but he shook his head at her.

"If they need us it's not our place to protest." he said sternly. “You heard what Leia said. Recruitments way down, and our forces ain't what they used to be. The options were either to send a flood of pilots who didn't know what they were doing or to send the best they had. No offence to you guys, but I don't want the blood of a hundred rookies on our hands."

"None taken," L'ulo assured him. The oldest guy in the squadron, L'ulo was used to being tossed around the world from mission to mission. Korea would be like a stroll down to the candy store for him. Poe had grown up listening to his Uncle L'ulo tell stories of far of places and daring exploits, maybe taking a bit of creative licence every now and again, but even unembellished the stories would have satisfied any wide-eyed kid who dreamed of the sky. They'd worked on Poe, after all, and now it was Bebe who sat on L'ulo's lap, listening to him spin his stories. Hopefully he'd come back to tell her more.

Poe pushed the thought aside and looked up at Leia, whose gaze was steady, if guilty. After all, this was completely unexpected. They'd already done their part in France, and maybe this was asking too much of them. But they were needed, and Leia would be damned if every soul that was ready and willing wasn't in the air to answer the call. "Know that you all have the option to stay here, for whatever reason." she added, as an afterthought. "We're not going to force anyone to do anything."

Despite it all a grin quirked at Poe's lips. She knew. Leia knew that none of them would dare back out, not before someone else did. Everything was going according to her plan, when something, or rather somebody, threw a wrench into the works.

“I’m going too.” Rey insisted suddenly. Han caught her eye and she screwed up her face. “Why not? I’ve been training with them for three years, and I’ve been flying ever since I got here. Isn't that enough?”

“You’re too young.” Han insisted. "If it were a peace keeping mission then maybe. But a full on war? No chance of that, kid. You're staying here." Leia looked from Rey to Han to Ben, who was making a point of not meeting her eye. She sighed and rubbed her forehead. This was too much drama to deal with at her age.

"Rey, Han, stay behind. The rest of you are dismissed.” she told them. The squadron filed out with mumbled goodbyes, wandering off to do whatever it was they had been working on before, before Leia had dropped the bomb on them. Poe went back to his office and read through some paperwork in a daze. He was still trying to work through it all in his head. Another war, another opportunity for innocent men and women to die like pigs in a slaughter. People just couldn't get along, could they?

As he was leaving he found Ben working on one of the new jets, mumbling and cursing to himself as he rewired the engine, overriding at least five of the safety measures. He caught sight of Poe and flipped up his welding mask, revealing his habitual scowl. “I don’t want Rey to go. She’s a kid, for God’s sake…”

“You weren’t that much older when you enlisted.” Poe pointed out. He could see Ben trying to argue, but nothing came out. “Gotcha.”

“Fuck off.” Ben grumbled. “By the way, why're you staying on? You've got every reason to sit this one out. Kid, job, family, you've hit the domestic jackpot."

"I'm your commander. I can't pussy out." Poe laughed harshly and rested against the wall, shaking his head. "Here we go again, huh?"

Ben nodded and flipped his mask back down. "Here we go again."

 

\- ————————— -

 

Telling Finn wasn't as hard as Poe thought it would be. There hadn't been any tears, no pleas or sobs that would have made his resolve crumble. Finn had reacted like a soldier would. He'd nodded, eyes hard and decisive, jaw set and firm. He'd said that if Poe thought it was what he had to do, then Finn wouldn't be the one to stop him. There was a look, though, a long, lingering look afterwards. Poe hadn't been able to decipher what it meant just yet.

Finn didn't seem to think much of it, though. A second later he'd broken into a smile and pushed Poe onto the bed, settling comfortably on his lap, explaining that if Poe must leave, the least he could do was give his husband a proper goodbye. Poe had agreed, and the two of them were very happy for an hour or so.

Later, when Finn was snoring in a tangle of sheets and cats, Poe rolled out of bed, dressed, and glanced out the window. Bebe was spending the night with Kes. He'd tell them on Monday. Wasn't really looking forward to that. On his way out of the room he tripped on Finn's satchel, set right in the doorway, of course, because that's where you put trip hazards.

“Messy son of a bitch…” he sighed. He stooped to gather Finn's bag, the letters and documents that had spilt out of it. He flicked through them idly, found a bill, a postcard, another bill...

And a letter from the Army. Poe's mouth went dry and his heart jumped up into his throat. But he just set the open envelope down on the kitchen table and took a breath. No need to jump to conclusions, now. Maybe the letter was about a pension plan they hadn't known about. Maybe Finn was going to get another medal. That must be it. He'd read the letter after a cup of coffee woke him up and cleared his head. Then he'd be able to make sense of all this.

He put the kettle on the stove and set about tidying up the kitchen, in Finn’s trademark state of disarray. Poe couldn’t wrap his head around the double life the man led when it came to cleanliness. Once he’d dropped by the station house while Finn was pulling an all-nighter, figured he’d keep him company, organise his workspace for him. So imagine how surprised he’d been to discover that Finn’s desk was immaculate, documents lined up and labelled, files colour-coded, not a stray paintbrush or loose pastel in sight. He had almost wanted to take a photograph.

Once the counter was clear, the dishes were clean, and the spice cupboard was reorganised, Poe sat down at the kitchen table with his stiff fingers wrapped around his mug, letting its warmth seep into his palms as he considered the letter sitting in front of him.

"Well, go on then." he said to himself after several minutes of blankly staring. He pulled out the folded sheet of paper with steady hands and began to read.

_Sergeant Jones,_

_The Department of the Army appreciates your prompt response to our previous letter and your understanding regarding the urgency of our request. You understand that information concerning your mission is classified, and under no circumstances is to be disclosed to any outsiders. .._

It started as a tremble in the corner of his mouth, then a twitch in his left eye. Poe held his breath and reread the last few lines before moving on. The middle of the letter passed by in a blur. All Poe cared about were the last two lines, the lines that would reveal that this was all a joke, a sick joke that had stopped being funny a long time ago.

_You are to arrive at Franklin Armoury at 0700 on Aug 20, 1950, where you will receive further instruction concerning your deployment._

_Thank you for your cooperation._

Poe could understand many things, but this? This was beyond him. This idea of Finn, his kind, loving Finn, being shoved back into a uniform and tossed back onto the battlefield, back somewhere that they admired how crafty and violent and brutal he could be if he had to, that couldn't be right, right? This couldn't be real. Just to be sure, Poe pinched the inside of his wrist and counted down from ten. When he didn't wake up with Finn safe in his arms he rubbed the red mark on his skin, trying to think. What did this mean for them? What would this do to them? Poe put down the letter, heart hammering and chest heaving, telling himself to calm down, to breathe, to stop crying dammit, it was embarrassing how terrified he was.

War wasn't what scared him. He knew war. Its image was seared to the insides of his eyelids, its signature scrawled in the scars covering his skin. It throbbed somewhere deep in the back of his head, a place he didn't think existed, let alone felt pain. He'd been through war's hell and come out the other side with a smile on his face. He knew war.

But having someone he loved burn with him?

That was new.

The floor creaked behind him and Poe wiped his face before deciding, screw it. He turned to glare at Finn, knowing that his red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks said enough. They did.

Finn sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, knowing that he'd been caught. "What can I say, Poe?"

“Nothing. You can stay quiet. Christ, Finn. I can’t believe you’d…” he bit back a sob and squeezed his eyes shut. “You volunteered to be shipped off. Why would you do that?”

“Please, Poe, can we talk about this?”

“No. There’s nothing to talk about. You’re not going.”

“I have to.” Finn insisted. Poe grit his teeth and shook his head, trying to block out the words.

“No, you don’t. Why didn’t you tell me? Did you really think I’d just…” He bit his lip and shook his head. “What the hell were you thinking?” Finn leant back against the counter with his head in his hands.

“Can we talk about this later?” he pleaded.

“No, we’re talking about this now.” Poe snapped, his grip tightening on the back of his chair. "And when we're done talking, you're writing another letter to them to say thanks, but no thanks, I'd rather not die in a shithole."

"I've already gone through training, I can't back out now. You're going, aren't you? Like hell I'm sticking around here and being useless. I want to go." Finn insisted. Poe opened his mouth to protest, but he just dropped the letter onto the kitchen table and stomped back to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Finn knocked, but he didn't get a response, not even a peep. “That’s rude. Do I just wait out here then?”

“Nah, you’re free to go, pal.” Poe’s voice came muffled from the other side of the door. Finn groaned and let his forehead thud against the wood. Well, this was fucking fantastic. Not knowing what else to do he climbed out of the living room window and sat down on the fire escape, sticking his legs through the rusted bars and letting the wind raise goosebumps on his skin. While he sat and seethed the sun sank quietly back into the horizon, and the evening buses trundled past on the otherwise empty street. Maybe it would be a good idea to try and catch one.

"I want to go," he repeated to himself. If he said it enough he could convince himself that it was the truth. It had been true eight years ago, so why not now? He still wasn't scared of fighting. He was still good at it, too, had come out on top in the refresher course last month, beating out the top rookie. That guy had left the training ground growling about his bad ankle and how the dirty cheating nigger better watch himself before he's taken out by friendly fire. Working with him would be a treat.

 Finn laughed a little at that as he rested back against the window. It was peaceful, this time of the evening. He stared down at the empty, unkempt lot between his building and the redbrick next door. A family of sparrows had taken up shop in the overgrown tree at the edge of the yard. He watched the mama bird swooping in and out of the nest for awhile, listening to the cheeping chicks over the sirens that were wailing a couple streets down and the shrill tones of a woman a next door, yelling at her kids to get inside and dressed for nana’s funeral. Yes, it was peaceful, for New York at least, but the night he had left for training the first time had been very much the same. So what had changed?

Behind him, Finn could hear a knock on the glass, but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to open it. He stared at the sparrow singing her babies to sleep and kept staring when the window was pushed open and Poe's hand smoothed up his shivering back. Without a word Finn closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, not wanting to break the silence first. Good thing Poe was a talker.

"You're icy." he muttered. "Here..." Finn smelled the jacket before he felt it settle on his shoulders. Like motor oil and sweat and the scent of pine that seemed to follow Poe around wherever he went. Finn had smelled it in France, but he had attributed it to the trees, by some magic giving off the scent of home, of another forest thousands of miles away. The next time it had been wafting through the trolley he'd stepped on at Williamsburg with plans to get off at Jefferson Park. And now it smelled like home, like laughter and warmth and sun-soaked days spent under billowy white sheets, learning how to speak with his hands and lips.

Oh, so that's what had changed.

He had a home now. That wasn't something to be taken lightly. It was so much different when you had someone to leave behind. He felt Poe's curls against the back of his neck and he reached back to run his fingers through his hair. “Come inside, Finn, please? You’ll catch a cold.”

“Poe, I…”

“It can wait for a few minutes. Keep quiet until then.” Poe told him. Finn almost protested, but then again, he figured he owed the guy whatever he wanted.

“A few minutes.” he agreed, letting Poe pull him back inside and into the bedroom. As it turns out, Poe’s definition of “a few” was rather liberal. First, he undressed Finn, fumbling with the buttons more than his clever fingers should have. He closed the window and drew the blinds. He rearranged the jars of paint on the desk into neat rows and herded the cats out of the room. Through all this Finn watched from the bed, complacent. Finally, Poe ran out of things to do and sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at the flickering lamp by the closet. But when he got up to tighten the light bulb Finn sighed and pulled him into his arms. “Poe, please let me explain.”

“What’s there to explain? I don't see why you have to go..." Poe shook his head and ran his fingertips through Finn's rough, close-cropped curls. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Would you have reacted any differently if I had?" Finn asked. When Poe didn't answer he pressed a kiss to his collarbone and sighed. "I figured as much. I'm sorry."

“I thought you’d pull something like this.” Poe admitted. "Then I thought that maybe you were smarter than that."

"Flattering, but you overestimated me. Please, you gotta believe me. I’m not doing this to hurt you. Never that. I just have to. It’s my responsibility, just like it is yours.”

"But it's not fair.” Poe said harshly. “It’s just not right that you-” his voice cut off in a dry sob, thick and guttural in the back of his throat. Finn tried to pull him close, but Poe shook him off and climbed out of bed, pacing the room like a caged animal. “After everything-" he grimaced and tried to speak, but nothing came out but a lost little squeak. He tried again, and again, and finally he rammed his fist against the wall in frustration, leaving a crack and a dent, which Poe blinked at in confusion. That's when the tears came, dripping over his bruised knuckles and reddening his face. He slid down the damaged wall and buried his face in his arms with a soft whimper.

“Poe, sweetheart…” Shaking off his stupor, Finn hopped out of bed and kneeled in front of Poe, pulling him close and rocking him back and forth.

“I don’t want you to go.” Poe let Finn guide him back to bed, fighting to keep his voice even. “Not again. You’re not going over there again. I'm not watching you walk away again." Contrite, Finn pressed his lips to Poe’s face, kissing away the tears, whispering against the wet skin.

“Anything you want, I’ll do it. Say the word and it’s yours.”

“Don't go.” That was all he asked, all he needed. And it was the one thing Finn couldn’t do. His hands found Poe’s in the dark and he held fast, a weak attempt at an apology. “You belong here, Finn. You've seen enough, you've done enough…” He buried his face in the crook of Finn’s neck, breath slowing just enough to make him understandable. "Why didn't you tell me? Why did you have to hide?"

“I’m a fucking coward, that’s why.” Finn blinked back a few tears of his own and shook his head. “I didn’t want to see you suffer. I hate seeing you in pain, you know that. All I want is for you to be okay.”

“If you leave too, who’s gonna take care of Bebe?” Poe wondered.

"Who took care of her the first time?"

"Maria, obviously. Then Dad did." Poe quieted a little, only to look up at Finn with something like anguish in his eyes. “God, that’s how I grew up, Finn. Not knowing where my parents were, if they were okay. Maybe both of them were alive, maybe both of them were dead. Maybe one of them was dead and somewhere far away the other was crying because they knew something I didn’t. Or maybe they didn’t know, either. It was as though I was Schrödinger’s cat, an orphan and not, all at once. And lemme tell you, being a thought experiment sucked.” Poe tried for a smile but barely succeeded. "I don't want to do that to our kid, Finn."

At that, his voice broke one last time. Finn held him while he cried, his own silent tears staining the pillow. They stayed like that for a long while, not asleep, but not awake, either. Drifting restlessly between the two like a skiff being tossed around on a stormy sea, loosely tied to a crumbling dock. It wasn't much, but it kept them afloat. But if the rope snapped, if the dock was swept away, if they lost each other, they were sure to sink.

 

\- ————————— -

 

"I lied, earlier," Finn mumbled into the back of Poe's neck. After a second Poe shifted and rolled over to face him. So he wasn't asleep. Finn hadn't been sure.

"About what?"

"I don't want to go."

"I don't want to go, either," Poe admitted. Finn nodded in assent and kissed Poe on the cheek before tucking his face into the warm space underneath his chin. It was strange, really. War was what had brought them together, and now war would tear them apart. Finn nodded again and closed his eyes, counting the beat of Poe's pulse until he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well the Korean War's a thing that happened. I guess I'm including that now.


	9. Pyeongtaek, 1951

"...And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen." After crossing herself Bebe got up off of the floor and climbed into bed, tucking herself in. “Good night, Papá. Good night, Finn,” she said softly. She pulled her teddy bear closer, burying her face in his ragged fur. “Please come back soon.”

As she was trying to get to sleep something flickered outside her window, dancing above the orange light of the city. Bebe sat up, pushing up the glass and letting the cool breeze fan her face as she watched the shooting star light up the dark February sky. It winked at her, the same knowing wink Finn had given her as he had walked out of the door for what might very well be the last time. Watching him leave had been hard enough, even with Papá with her. Then Papá had left, and now she may never see either of them again, ever.

Boy, that was a depressing thought.

Bebe felt tears begin to form in the corner of her eyes, but she blinked them away as a wonderful idea popped into her head. How had she not thought of this sooner? Elbows resting on the windowsill, she squeezed her eyes shut and clasped her dimpled hands together, whispering the magic words under her breath, hoping that the star wasn't too busy and wouldn't mind her late submission.

 _Star light, star bright,_  
_The first star I see tonight;_  
_I wish I may, I wish I might,_  
_Have the wish I wish tonight._

Her wish was ready on her lips, then she paused as a sickly, certain, grown-up feeling began to tug at the pit of her stomach. A realisation, an uninvited epiphany. She closed the window and curled up on her bed with her hands wrapped around her tummy, trying to come to grips with the fact that no matter how hard she wished, how earnest her prayers or fervent her hope, her parent’s safety would never be guaranteed.

She remembered what teacher had said a few weeks ago when they were learning about the Great War. When countries were at war, soldiers died all the time. Good soldiers, bad soldiers, death didn’t see any difference between them. What did that mean for Papá and Finn? They were smart and brave and kind, but she bet that some of those dead people had been, too. That hadn’t protected them, and it wouldn’t protect the people she loved either.

Shivering, she grabbed Teddy and crept into the hall. Abuelo was sitting in the living room, snoring in Finn’s armchair with Ruiz curled up in his lap. Bebe had thought about having him tuck her in, but it'd be rude to wake him up. He had been acting strange ever since Papá left, tired and distracted-like. Bebe thought she knew why, although it didn't really make sense to her.

The night that Poe had left she was staying at Abuelo's house. After being tucked into Poe's old bedroom upstairs she'd crept over to the bannister and peeked out through the railings, planning to holler "Goodnight" at Poe and Kes, who were in the kitchen. That's not what happened, though. Instead, she heard snippets of an argument, staccato accents rising and falling and punctuated with sharp exclamations. When an argument was in Spanish, you knew it was serious. Bebe found herself frozen in place, trying to understand what she was hearing.

_"Dad, calm down..."_

_"I saw you together. You and that man. You're sick, you need help-"_

_"No, you need to understand-"_

_"Understand that my son's been corrupted? We raised you better than this, Poe. What would your mother-"_

_"Mom knew, Dad. And she didn't care."_ A long silence followed, tense and uneasy. Bebe waited for a yell, a crash, but what she got was far worse.

 _"Get out."_ She had never heard Abuelo use that tone. He sounded like that man from a few years ago, the one with a staggering gait and hard, hateful eyes. " _Until the day comes that you change your ways, you are no longer welcome here. Until that day comes you are no longer my son_."

After hearing that Bebe fled back to her room. She didn’t quite know what they had been talking about, but from Abuelo’s voice, Papá had done something bad. Bebe had yet to figure out what. But maybe, just maybe, it was about Finn.

She was old enough now to understand what made her family different, what made it wrong. School had taught her that a proper family needed three things: A boy Papá, a girl Mamá, and an indefinite number of children of either gender. Bebe loved her family, but she knew that other people would think that they were strange. So she and Papá and Finn had to play pretend.

A couple months after she had accidentally outed them, they had all sat down at the kitchen table with crayons and pencils and paper, and together they dreamt up a name, a face, a story to go with their brand new family. The name was Lois Frances Jones, a lovely woman in her mid-twenties, all dark hair and bright eyes. If anyone asked what she looked like they would be pointed to one of Finn’s sketches, a charcoal portrait of a nurse he’d befriended in France.

According to their story, Poe, "Lois", and Bebe had been living happily together as an unofficial little family. Then came news that "Lois'" mother had taken ill. Being the kind soul she was, "Lois" took it upon herself to care for the ailing old woman, who unfortunately lived all the way in Phoenix. Cue a tearful goodbye and a promise to write, and off went "Lois", up in a cloud of smoke. The illusion of her existence was maintained by forged letters, (courtesy of Ben, who had rather delicate handwriting, actually - who would have guessed?) as well as photographs Finn had dug up somewhere in his apartment. With these defences in place, no one could accuse Poe of anything but being a loyal and steadfast lover, while Finn could now be waved off as the family friend. And for five blissful years, no one suspected a thing.

Well, up until now, that is. It seemed that Kes had found them out. Strangely, he didn't do any of the awful things Finn had warned her about, but Bebe wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

She eased open the door to her parent's bedroom, happy to find it warm. Papá had fixed the heater before he had had to go. Finn had left a week before him, and in that week he’d been like a caged animal, always needing to fill his time with something, anything. Chores that had been unappealing before were now his salvation, while the quiet he normally coveted was nothing if not poison. This, Bebe understood. Papá and Finn, they relied on each other now, they were part of each other. Finn might as well be carrying his husband's heart around in his back pocket. Without him, Papá wasn't really Papá.

Bebe wrapped the blankets around herself and buried her face in the faded fabric of Papá’s pillow. The bed was too big when she was by herself. But it still smelled like them, which was nice. Who knew how long that would last. She wrapped herself up tighter and closed her eyes, imagining Poe’s arm slung over her shoulders, Finn’s warmth and snores at her side. And she wished, she hoped, she prayed that that star would bring her Mamá and Papá home.

 

\- ————————— -

 

“Why’re we here again?”

“‘Cause I dunno about you, but I figure getting piss-poor drunk is the answer to all my problems.” Ben slurred, liquor already stale on his breath. Boy, the guy worked fast. Poe rolled his eyes and stretched, trying to work the kink out of his shoulders.

They’d spent the past few months bouncing between their Tokyo base and MiG Alley, so known for the Soviet jets patrolling the area. It had been a nasty surprise bumping into them for the first time. The Russians had had the advantage seeing as how Poe’s squadron had been in P-51s, but Poe had managed to shoot one of them down, somehow. A lot of fancy flying had been involved.

As to what they were doing on a base in Korea, there was a grand old offensive being planned out, so Poe and his unit had been dumped in K-6 to await further instruction. The garrison was near Pyeongtaek and right around the corner from a bar that relied on the patronage of rowdy GI’s, making it a helluva lot wilder than any of their previous stopovers.

Poe squinted through the grey smog, taking in the scene. Cheap rotgut and comfort women lined the bar, makeup lurid and voices hollow, eyes weary and giggles shrill. The soldiers were smoking, drinking, hooting when one of their own was led upstairs by a girl. Some of them blushed, but others seemed to be past caring. Poe rested back in his chair and scanned the crowd, sorting through the unfamiliar faces and voices. What he was looking for, he didn’t know. He just had a feeling.

Turns out going by his gut had been a good instinct. A smile quirked at the edge of his lips and he pulled his tunic back on. “Hold this.” He handed his glass to Ben, who downed it as Poe made his way across the bar to a guy sitting all by his lonesome, head ducked over a notepad, drink untouched beside him. Poe tapped him on the shoulder and smiled when he turned around. “Sergeant,” he said, carefully controlling his tone. It was all he could do not to let out a whoop and go leaping into Finn’s arms.

Finn smirked and nodded cordially. “Commander. It's been what, nine months?” His voice was smooth and easy as ever. You would have had to know him well to tell that he was holding back a delighted cry. “I guess that wasn’t goodbye, after all.”

“I guess you’re right.” Poe agreed. Finn laughed from somewhere deep in his chest and Poe felt his heart do a flip. What he wouldn’t give to be kissing that smile right now. But the situation being what it was, he had to resign himself to slapping Finn on the back and sitting down beside him for some banal small talk. Not quite the romantic reunion he had hoped for, but it would do in a pinch. "How've you been? Still in one piece?"

"Yep, and I'm just as surprised as you are. How's your squad? Is Rey alright? I heard she broke the sound barrier a couple months ago."

"I did not condone that. She damn near gave me a heart attack, pulling that stunt..."

They chatted for awhile, but eventually Poe had to throw in the towel. He just couldn't ignore the longing pounding in his heart and head and, well, other places. Suffice to say that if he had to hold back any longer he’d grab Finn by the collar and french kiss him, right here in the middle of the bar. He was actually leaning in to do so before remembering how bad of an idea that was. They'd best wait until there was a door between them and everyone else, or at least some thick curtains, or a comparatively tall fence.

"So, you up to anything tonight?" he asked, batting his eyelashes like a schoolgirl. Finn arched an eyebrow and snorted at Poe's circumvent approach. Married for nearly five years, and he still thought he had to flirt his way into sex. Adorable.

"You're in the Echo barracks, right? I'll meet you there in ten." Finn arranged the matter quickly and efficiently, downing his shot as he did. Poe pouted, seeing that his attempt to play the coquet had fallen flat. Finn just laughed and shook his head. "I'm too tired to beat around the bush right now. You in, or do I have to find myself another queer? There's gotta be one around here somewhere..."

"You've got a perfectly good one right here. I'm in. All in. In deep." Poe assured him. Smirking, Finn leant in close, knowing he could plead drunkness if his actions were questioned.

"Is that your plan for tonight?" he purred in Poe's ear, making him stiffen up in more ways than one. Poe crossed his legs and made a face at Finn, who was guffawing like a donkey.

"Now who's the tease? And make it five." Poe hopped off of his stool and sauntered off, safe in the knowledge that Finn was staring at his ass as he walked out the door. Tonight would be a good night.

 

\- ————————— -

 

“Sweetheart, keep it down.” Poe whispered in Finn’s ear. As though making an effort to aggravate him, Finn let out a low whine and squirmed, causing the bed to let out a telltale squeak. “I swear, Finn…” But Poe didn’t protest further, opting instead to take his hands off of the headboard and run them over every square inch of dark, salty-sweet skin he could get to. Rocking just enough to make Finn’s thighs tremble against his stomach, he moved his lips from Finn’s chest to his neck to his ankles and back again, worshipping every inch of the man he’d thought he’d lost.

They were tangled up in Poe’s bunk, blinds drawn and door locked. One good thing about him being in a position of authority: his room was well away from the general barracks, the prying eyes and curious ears. He could do whatever (or whoever) he wanted, and the only person that had to know would be Ben, his next door neighbour.

So what that entailed was Finn being flat on his back with his legs slung over Poe’s shoulders and the sheets twisted in his fingers, his eyes closed and breath coming in short, frustrated pants. Frustration born from the fact that Poe hadn't budged, mostly because he knew that if he did, he’d come way too early. But Finn was having none of that. “Move.” he pleaded, reaching down to grip Poe’s thighs, tugging him closer. “I need you to move.”

“Someone’s demanding…” Poe teased, making Finn groan. Poe shushed him and pressed their lips together in a hard, hungry kiss.

“Can you blame me? I missed you so badly…” Finn moaned under his breath. As Poe began to thrust Finn whimpered, his fingers scrabbling for purchase on the rumpled sheets. “I missed you, I missed you…”

It became a chant on Finn’s lips before being drowned out by gasps and the wet, obscene sound of flesh on flesh. Rough and a little sloppy because hey, God knows when they’d last had a chance to do this or when another opportunity would arise. As Poe had predicted, he came embarrassingly quick, collapsing as Finn spilt over his fingers with a soft cry. Well, at least he wasn’t the only one out of practice.

Poe closed his eyes and sighed when Finn's fingers went straight to his damp curls, combing through them like he did back home when Poe got out of the bath. "Hello," Finn mumbled, a warm smile in his voice.

“Hi.” Poe sighed. He nuzzled against Finn’s neck and let himself be gathered up in his arms. “So I guess you’re the welcome wagon?”

“Yup. By the way, what the hell are you guys doing on an infantry base?” he asked, running his fingers over Poe’s stubbly cheeks, the scratchy hair on his chest. He took Poe’s hand and laced their fingers together like he was worried one or both of them was about to go up in smoke. “Don’t you pigeons roost on your own turf?”

“You know K-6’s an airfield, right?”

“I don’t pay attention. Besides, we only just showed up.” Finn laughed as Poe snuggled down into his arms with a contented sigh. “Have you heard from Bebe at all?”

“I’ve got one of her letters on me. Dunno which one. She’s sent a bunch…”

“Read it to me? I haven’t got my glasses.” They swapped positions, Finn on top with his chin resting on Poe’s stomach while Poe fished a letter out from underneath his pillow. He cleared his throat importantly, unbent one of the corners, and started to read, Bebe’s uneven printing standing sharp in the moonlight.

  
_Dear Papá and Finn if you’re there,_

_I got your letter and read it to Abuelo. Korea is very far away and sounds really different from home. Are you homesick? Do you miss me?_

_You weren’t at my birthday party so I have to tell you about that. All of my friends were there and so were Abuelo and Uncle Han and Auntie Leia and Uncle Chewie. We had hot dogs and soda and chocolate cake and three types of pie. My tummy hurt after that and I had to lie down and Uncle Han laughed at me but he also got me a really big present so that made it okay._

_School is really boring and I don’t like my teacher. Last week I threw a sandwich at Jim’s head and she shouted at me. Then she smacked my hand with a ruler and it hurt but I didn’t cry and then I left a toad in her desk during lunch. She screamed real loud when she found it. I don’t know why because it was a nice toad. I named it Toady and got Philippa to kiss it to see if it would turn into a prince. But it didn’t so I guess it must be a lady toad._

_I love you and I love Finn and I hope you both come home soon. Here are a bunch of hugs and kisses since I can’t give them to you in real life: xoxo xoxo_

_Love Bebe_

_P.S. If Finn’s with you here are his: xoxo xoxo_

_P.P.S. Half of the stuff in the care package is for him._

_P.P.P.S. Don’t eat his half of the chocolate, Papá._

  
“Looks like she’s doing fine. Where’s that care package?” Finn asked. Poe just fidgeted and gave a nervous laugh. Finn knew that laugh. That was the _Oh, those were your cookies? Oops._ laugh. “You ate my share, didn’t you? So that’s how you’ve managed to keep your shape." He squeezed Poe around the middle and rested his cheek on his chest. "I’ve missed using you as a pillow, by the way.”

“Mm. Can you stay?”

“I wish I could. We leave in the morning.”

“I’ll see if I can spot you on the ground. You’re on Operation Courageous, right?” Poe asked. Finn nodded and kissed the tip of Poe's nose before rolling out of bed. Poe stretched out on the sheets, watching Finn dress in the dark, dozing off a little bit, lulled by the false sense of security that Finn filled him with. He was already half asleep when he felt Finn's lips brush against his cheek. At that he opened an eye and smiled, reaching out and pulling Finn down to his level, pressing one last kiss to his forehead.

“Good luck with Tomahawk,” Finn whispered against Poe’s neck. “Sleep now, got that?” Poe nodded obediently and nestled down in the blankets, his eyes fluttering shut as he surrendered to a deep, restful sleep.

When he woke up the next morning, Poe wasn't sure whether or not the whole encounter had been a dream.

 

\- ————————— -

 

Another few months went by. The war was being fought to a standstill, and by the time Bebe's eleventh birthday rolled around back home, Poe was getting pretty damn tired of it. That made four birthdays he hadn't been able to go to, and all of those times it had been because he was off fighting someone else's war.

Overall, his squadron was still in pretty okay shape, aside from a few exceptions. Snap's arm had, well,  _snapped_ , in an unfortunate maintenance accident, and L'ulo had been honourably discharged after someone up top dug up his birth certificate and realised the man was way past expiration date. But aside from that they were all pretty good.

Well, at least until today. On paper the mission had looked like standard fare, really. Protect the guys on the ground, little bit of scouting, recon if they needed it. Poe should've known by now that "standard fare" didn't exist in this line of work.

The battle for Heartbreak Ridge had been going on for two weeks, and casualties were piling up on both sides. If they didn't figure something out, and soon, this could very well end in disaster for everyone involved. But Poe didn't really have time to ponder long-term ramifications right now, not when he was in the middle of a dogfight with three MiGs. He couldn't catch a break, could he?

Poe cussed and fired, knocking another jet out of the air as he dived to avoid the gunfire aimed his way. Their convoy had been held up by a minefield, and now it was his squadron's job to pick off the MiGs that had swarmed them like fruit flies. 

"I'll get 'em off your tail, Jess." Rey's voice crackled in his comm as she swooped overhead, guns blazing. "Jesus, Poe. How many are there?"

"Reinforcements should be here by now." Karé interjected. "We can't hold our position for long." Poe grit his teeth and pulled out of his dive right before hitting the ground. The guy who had been tailing him wasn't so lucky, and the cockpit shuddered as the MiG hit the dirt behind him. Poe smirked and focused his sights on the underbelly of the fighter above him. This was fine, they could do this, nothing new here. They were professionals, what could happen?

 "Ben!" Rey's voice rang in Poe's head and he jumped, turning in time to see the wing snap off of Ben's F-86, to watch his oldest friend go down in a tailspin of smoke and metal. The plane that had hit him shot past Poe, on its way back for another run. 

“Oh, you commie fuck…” Poe growled as he adjusted his course, following the MiG's pursuit curve. The MiG did a break and Poe wound up in his sights for a split second. But he cut the engine, forcing the MiG to overshoot, before pulling up in an Immelmann, hitting the MiG as he rolled upright. He saw the smoke erupt from its engine and did a wingover, climbing high above it, watching it careen to the ground. Deserved it, that son of a bitch. 

In the corner of his eye, Poe could see the smouldering wreckage of Ben's fighter, but he couldn't dwell on that right now. The shock of loss hadn't hit him yet. That would come later. In the moment, high off of adrenaline, he had to focus. Their reinforcements were approaching starboard, and the same could be said for the Russians on port. Poe was still seething, and that paired with his recklessness is what probably fuelled his next decision. “I gotta give our guys time to get here, lead the reds off, something. I got it."

"Poe, what the hell-" Rey's voice crackled as Poe rolled into the approaching squadron with a yell. “Get the hell out of there!” He ignored the warnings flooding his radio and floored it, swooping and spinning and shooting in a frenzied blur, the MiG's formation scattering around him. That bought them more than enough time, but even he couldn't last forever. 

When he was finally shot down he ejected, struggling with his chute. As he fell everything seemed to bundle up and dissolve into one whirl of colour and noise, sensations getting all muddled up together. He heard the explosions above him, felt the pain shoot up through his legs as he hit the ground, but after that, well, it all went sort of blurry after that.

 

\- ————————— -

 

After checking on Bebe, who was still sound asleep, Kes eased himself into his armchair with an old book in his lap. Once he wiped his spectacles he flipped through the book's worn pages, waiting to come across something. Eventually he found it, an unsealed envelope stuck to a dog-eared page, the tape yellowed with age. His will. He unstuck it and smoothed it out, revealing the verse written underneath. He read the passage carefully, although he had memorised it long ago. His mother had taught him how to read out of this book, cradling him in her lap, letting him fiddle with her rosary as she spoke the words of Samuel, Luke, and John.

That was how Poe had learnt, too. Sitting in Shara’s lap, her curls tickling his shoulders when she leant forward to point out a new word or explain what such-and-such a verse meant.

 _Oh, Shara, you would have been able to explain this to me_. he thought helplessly. Squinting, he read the will through again. It was much younger than the envelope. A year ago he had torn the original to shreds and cast it into the fire, his gut churning as he watched the fragments twisting and crumbling in the flames. Then he had written a new will that left everything to a distant cousin, shoved it out of sight and let himself try and forget about leaving his own son out of the picture. But, Kes reasoned, Poe was free to renounce his aberrant ways any time he liked, and when he did Kes would be more than happy to return things to the way they had been. It was Poe who was in the wrong, not Kes. He was not doing this out of spite. He was doing it out of love, unlike Poe, who was simply afflicted with some strange disease.

Right? 

His mind wandered back to a night a little over a year ago, one he had chosen to ignore for personal reasons. He had been visiting Han when the fancy struck him to go and find Shara's fighter. That would be fun. He knew it was stashed in one of the hangars, but he had wound up getting lost and wandering aimlessly through the base. That's when he saw them. Two people silhouetted in the doorway of a garage, tangled up together in a tight embrace. Blushing, Kes was about to turn back, when one of the figures began to speak.

"I missed you." Kes had frozen in place, recognizing Poe's voice. He was with another man, who had his fingers tangled in Poe's curls, lips pressed to Poe's temple. Kes' stomach had lurched as he watched them, but whether it was disgust or fear that made him queasy, he couldn't tell. Later on, he would settle on disgust. What Poe was doing was wrong, unnatural. Love couldn't exist like this. This was something else, something filthy and impure.

Then why had there been nothing but tenderness in their eyes, nothing but affection in their touch? Kes couldn't understand it. But what was the harm in letting it be? Plus, Bebe seemed to love the person she called her Mamá. Fools and children tell the truth, and Kes trusted his granddaughter.

He had a lot to think about, but one advantage of being old is that you have a lot of time on your hands. Kes spent the night in his armchair, thinking everything through at a reasonable pace, ruminating over this that and the other thing until he came to a satisfying conclusion. When the sun came up and the rooster crowed in the yard he blinked, stretched, and shuffled over to his desk, where he sat down with a fresh sheet of paper and the fountain pen Bebe had gotten him for Christmas. Once he was all settled, he began to write.

_I, Kes Dameron, being of sound mind and body, do declare this my last will and testament. Upon the occasion of my death, it is my wish that the whole of my estate and assets be left to my son, Poe Dameron. He is free to share this inheritance with whosoever he wishes, and it is my deepest regret that I did not show such understanding during my time here…_

He wrote until he could hear Bebe moving around upstairs, cats scampering around her ankles. With careful hands, he folded up the document and tucked it back into the envelope. It would be waiting for Poe when he got home.

  

\- ————————— -

 

Cracked tile ceiling, scratchy wool blanket, antiseptic stinging his nose. Poe tried to sit up and let out something like a whimper. Now that was a new type of pain in his side. He grit his teeth and tried to relax around the throbbing in his chest as a nurse trotted over to him, hands full with a shiny metal tray.

“You’re in recovery, commander. Just relax. You had a concussion.” she informed him.

“That sounds familiar.” Poe rested back on the pillows, happy to discover that moving his neck didn't cause him too much pain. To his left there was a whitewashed wall, across from him there were two empty beds, and to his right there was an occupied one, curtains drawn around it, connoting either imminent death or disfigurement. Poor bastard, whoever he was. Speaking of which, “My squadron, are they…”

“You’re the only pilot currently in this unit, sir. I’m sorry, but I haven’t anything more to tell you.” She placed the tray on his bedside table and readjusted his pillow. “I’m sure news will come soon.”

“Yeah. Thanks, nurse…” She nodded and rushed off, the soles of her shoes squeaking on the linoleum floor. Poe glanced at his food and wrinkled his nose before turning away. Something was churning in the pit of his stomach, but he struggled to remember what, exactly. Maybe he should work backwards, starting with how he had wound up here. He'd been flying, he knew that much. Finger-four formation, if his memory was to be trusted. He'd been in front, Flight Leader, with Rey as his wingman. Jess had been Element Leader, and her wingman had been...

Ben.

Ben was dead. Gunned down as they approached the ridge. It played on loop in Poe's head, clear as a movie projected on the wall. Static bursting in his ear, a winding spiral of smoke, and Rey's shriek, watching her brother fall to the earth in slow motion. Poe screwed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. Not right now, he couldn't bring himself to think of that right now. Later, yes, but for now he needed to think of something else, something better. Something where Ben was alive, whole, unscathed. Poe grasped the first memory that came to mind, not wanting to forget, not wanting to lose sight of his friend.

They had been seventeen and nineteen, and had taken the Falcon out for a joyride on Ben's grad night. Without permission, obviously, because that would have taken the fun out of it. And that would have been a real shame, because the night had been perfect. The still, cool air made for the smoothest flight Poe could remember, while the moon had lit their way almost as well as the sun. As they coasted over the twilight fields and roads, grown insignificant below them, Poe had wondered, for a moment, if they could just stay up here, if they could just set a course to the moon and never look back. 

Back in the present, Poe sighed and pulled his blanket up to his chin, trying to remember, ignoring the throbbing in his skull. That's how he drifted off, the purr of the Falcon's motor rumbling in his ears, and Ben's laughter behind him, bright as the light of the moon.

 

\- ————————— -

 

When Poe woke up he squinted in the shaft of moonlight that had decided to fall right on his face, which is probably what had woken him up in the first place. Sighing, he twisted to look at his bedside table. Someone had come and taken away the lunch tray, trading it out for a package and a letter. Poe smiled, seeing the familiar scrawl on the side of the box. It wasn't much, but it was something good, at least.

While he was wrestling with the second layer of wrapping paper the bed beside him rocked, the occupant jolting out of sleep with a gasp. His ragged breaths echoed hollow and frightened in the dark room and Poe glanced worriedly at the curtains. “You good, buddy?” 

“Poe?” The voice was croaky and muffled and awfully familiar. The package dropped to the mattress and Poe held his breath, wondering if concussions made you hear things. But no, that voice was all too real, and all too scared for Poe too ignore it.

“Finn?” Wincing, Poe eased himself into sitting position, grabbing the bars of his bunk as he tested out his legs. They could take his weight, but just barely. The three steps to the other bed made his head swim, but he had to know, had to see, no matter how much it would hurt him. His hand rested on the curtain for a long time, until Finn's shuddering breaths guilted him into sliding it open. 

He hated to admit it, but looking down at Finn, for a split second Poe felt like running away. The top half of Finn’s face was wrapped in bandages while the lower half was covered in bruises and stitches. Poe closed the curtain behind himself and sat down on the edge of Finn's bed, a sudden bout of nausea burning the back of his throat. Finn turned towards the noise of squeaking springs, groping blindly until he found Poe's hand. “I can’t see…” he whispered as Poe pressed his lips to his bandaged knuckles.

“They’re just bandages, buddy. They’ll come off soon.” He cupped Finn’s face in his hands and kissed a bruise on his forehead. Moonlight flickered on the clipboard above Finn’s bed, highlighting his name, rank, division, and diagnosis. _Presumed blind, blunt trauma, gangrene, amputation_ , the list went on. Poe took hold of the stump where Finn’s right wrist used to be, weighing it in his hand, holding it as though they were slow dancing. Like that night, the two of them on a balcony. They had made a promise, a promise to take care of each other, to make sure that nothing like this ever happened…

“So it really is gone. I thought they were pulling my leg.” Finn interrupted Poe's train of thought, his voice small in the dark. “I’ve still got my legs, right?”

“Yeah, buddy.” He reached down and tickled the back of Finn’s knee, the one sensitive spot on him. That got them both to smile, at least a little. “See?”

“Oh, okay. I can live with that. Good thing it’s not my left hand, wouldn't be able to draw.…” Curious, Finn reached up and ran his remaining fingers over the contours of Poe’s face, the beard dusting his hollowed out cheeks and the bags under his eyes. His thumb lingered on Poe’s lips for a long moment, stroking the chapped skin. Poe kissed Finn’s fingertips and buried his face in his chest. “But I want to see you. ”

“Soon, baby. The bandages are gonna come off eventually. You’ll be able to see me, and Rey, and Bebe, and everything else, too. We’re going home, sweetheart. It’ll be alright. We’re going home.”

“I’m gonna make it?” Finn said softly. Poe nodded and curled up with his head on Finn's chest, lulling himself to sleep on the unsteady beat of his heart, keeping time with his quick, shallow breaths. "But the curtain was drawn, Poe. They only do that when somebody's dying..."

Poe shushed him harshly and looped his arms around his neck. "You're coming home, Finn." He tried his best, but he couldn't hide the break in his voice. Finn rested his hand on Poe'd head and sighed as he worked through the tangles in his curls. "You're not leaving me." 

"I'll try, Poe." Finn said carefully. Poe nodded and pressed his face into Finn's neck, biting his lower lip to hold back a whimper. "I can't promise anything, but I'll try."

That wasn't good enough. That just wasn't good enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nobody is allowed to be happy in this fic, apparently.


	10. Suffolk County, 1953

_Linger in my arms_  
_A little longer, baby_  
_Hold me tight…_

Finn sighed and nuzzled his nose against Poe’s neck while Poe sang. This had become something of a bedtime ritual while they were in hospital, the two of them curled up on Finn’s bunk with the curtain drawn and their arms wrapped around each other. Safe, concealed, it was almost as though they were back home. Well, not exactly. Poe stiffened and hushed up when footsteps passed by their door, starting up the song again when they moved on, but quieter this time.

_While my love for you_  
_Is growing stronger, baby_  
_It ain't right to say goodnight,_

 _Though it may be getting_  
_Past your dreamtime, baby_  
_Don't think twice._

Finn’s good eye fluttered, his eyelashes tickling Poe’s skin as he drifted off. The bandages had come off a few days ago, and by some miracle the damage to his right eye hadn’t been as serious as the doctors had originally thought. The other one was a little more mangled, but it wasn’t irreparable. He was on the mend, thank God. Poe kissed the bandages on Finn’s left eye and smiled to himself, the soft puff of his husband’s snuffling snores warm on his shoulder. Say what you will, but as far as Poe was concerned, right now he was the luckiest guy in the world. 

  _Just linger in my arms_  
_A little longer, baby_  
_'Cause it's so nice_  
_It's oh so nice…_

“Goodnight, _amor_. I love you.” He kissed Finn on the forehead and shuffled back to his bed, leaving the curtains open so he wouldn’t be lonely. The moonlight from the open window danced on Finn’s face, highlighting his scars and accenting the prominent jut of his cheekbones. Poe sighed and propped his chin up in the palm of his hand, brow furrowed as he considered the man across from him.

Even asleep, Finn looked completely drained, gaunt and exhausted and almost frail. And with good reason. Poe had read the medical charts the doctors had left above Finn's bed, and it wasn't pretty. There was a slash across his back that bunched and pulled at his spine, making any movement incredibly painful, forcing him to do nothing but lay in bed all day, which Poe knew was driving him crazy. And when he did get up he wound up knocking into things or tripping on his crutches, cursing his blurred, uneven vision.

Physical aside, he'd been acting differently too. Smiling only rarely, shying away from Poe's touch every now and again. It hurt a little bit, because Poe couldn't quite understand what had happened. These new scars must run deeper, somehow. He would figure out how to soothe them some other day, when he had the chance. As much as he'd like to do that now, that would be difficult with an ocean separating the two of them.

 He was scheduled for release tomorrow after two weeks spent in recovery. Finn had a longer wait but he’d be home in time for Christmas, maybe even a bit earlier. All it took on Poe's part was a little patience, a little hope. Once Finn was home it would be alright. They would work through all of this together.

Finn sighed in his sleep and Poe dragged his eyes open one more time. Finn's face had relaxed, looking a bit more like that of the man Poe knew back home, the excited, smiling, laughing man he'd fallen in love with. Didn't mean he didn't love this Finn, too. It was just a matter of getting adjusted. God knows Poe wasn't the same guy he'd been when they'd first met.

As he drifted off Poe took one last snapshot of Finn in his head, storing it away with a thousand other pictures, a thousand other moments. Hopefully over five year's worth of memories would get him through the next few months. And even if he ran out, there was always their future to think about.

Because their future together was a sure thing. It wasn't a question of if anymore, only when and how. And once the when was sorted out, they would both be ready to spend a lifetime trying to work through the how.

 

\- ————————— -

 

 “Papá!” Bebe ran across the hangar and leapt into Poe's arms with a shout, burying her face in his neck and clinging to him with arms and legs. Poe dropped his bag and gripped her tight, closing his eyes and hugging her even closer while his squad greeted their own families around him. She smelled like lemon soap and Kes' garden and newly washed sheets, familiar and safe. Poe took a deep breath and nuzzled against the top of her head. He was finally home. 

"Oof, _cariño_ , I'm gonna pull something..." Bebe pouted and hopped nimbly out of his arms, still clinging to him possessively by the waist. He looked down at his kid for a second, his smile flickering on his face. It was uncanny, how much she looked like the picture of Shara that was on the mantlepiece. “You’re so big now.” he said in wonder. “Where’s the little girl I used to carry around on my shoulders, huh?” Bebe laughed and Poe ruffled her hair. “You missed your old man, right?”

“Yup. Both of them.” She craned her neck, as though expecting to see Finn hiding behind Poe. When he didn’t pop up she blinked up at him, her cheek resting on his chest. “Where’s Finn?”

“He's still in hospital, sweetheart, but he'll be out soon. Trust me." Bebe nodded and buried her face in Poe's chest again, closing her eyes and sighing in satisfaction. Poe smiled at her, but that smile faded as he looked around the room. Rey had wandered off, and call him overprotective, but Poe wanted to make sure she was okay. "Ease off for a sec, kiddo, I've gotta check up on someone. See you in a bit." 

He wandered around base until he found Rey in the smallest hangar. She was curled up on the Falcon's wing, watching a ceiling fan turn overhead. She didn't acknowledge Poe's entrance, keeping her eyes fixed upwards like someone transfixed, the brittle sculpture a person becomes when they're on the brink of crying.

“Rey?” Poe sat down beside her and smoothed a hand up her arm. "You alright?" As he had predicted, she wordlessly burst into tears and pressed her face into his chest. He sighed and wrapped his arms around her, fingers combing through her tangled hair. "It's alright, kiddo. I know."

“I want them back, Poe.” she gasped into his neck. “Ben and Finn, why’d they have to get left behind?”

“Shh, kiddo. I miss them too. But Finn, he's coming home. You have to believe that. He'll come back home to us, Rey. Where he belongs." At least he was pretty sure Finn was coming home, but it wouldn't do to tell Rey that.

"How d'you know you're right?" she asked tremulously. She pulled away and wiped her nose, staring at her feet. "How d'you know that people are gonna come back for you?"

How could Poe answer that question? Especially when it was coming from the kid who had been dumped on an orphanage doorstep at five years old. Poe sighed and wrapped an arm around Rey's shoulders, trying to work out a response. "You trust them." he said finally. "You trust that they love you, and that that love's going to bring them home."

"I loved Ben, though. Mom and Dad, they loved him too. What'd that love do for any of us?" Rey shook her head, tracing the dents on the Falcon's wing. "The night after he crashed I had a nightmare, about him dying, so I ran to his room and banged on the door as hard as I could. I kept waiting for him to kick it open, cuss me out before listening to what I had to say. He was supposed to roll his eyes, ruffle my hair, call me an idiot and send me back to my room with a smack on the back of my head and one of the chocolate bars he kept stashed in his pack." Rey rubbed her eyes and shrugged. "I couldn't understand why he never answered the door." she said softly. Poe nodded, rocking back and forth when Rey rested against his shoulder, tears rolling down her face.

"I know, kiddo." he said softly. "Believe me, I know."

They'd get through it. They'd all get through it together.

 

\- ————————— -

 

Finn never did write.

Poe waited for a letter, checked his mailbox and Finn's, too, for good measure. He asked the Solos if they'd received anything, but for three long months no word came, Poe's steadily growing stack of letters going unmailed for lack of an address.

He'd wait, still, of course he would. He'd write his letters, he'd take care of their kid, he'd work and live and do everything he always did, because he knew that one day Finn would come home.

But some days, when he woke up screaming from old nightmares, alone in his sea of a bed, it was just impossible for him to keep believing. Days like those passed in a haze, rippling with the undercurrent of bad dreams he wasn't supposed to have anymore, whispers of what their reappearance meant. Everything seemed to go wrong on those days. Take this one, for example.

Poe shivered and pulled his coat closer around himself. The bus had taken too long for his liking so he’d decided to walk, a choice he was regretting ten blocks and one thunderstorm later. It was altogether too rainy for April. He sighed and slogged across the street, wondering where he had wandered off to. Rain always disoriented him, but he knew enough to be sure that home wasn't this way. He may as well walk, though. Bebe was at a friend's house, and he wasn't in the mood for an empty apartment.

Then he realised he'd been heading towards one anyways. Without his permission his feet had taken him to Finn's doorstep, where he usually turned up on days like this. He was about to turn away, then a flash of lightning startled him into running inside. He rested against the foyer wall and took a deep breath as the following roll of thunder rumbled above his head. Sounded like a MiG's engine. Poe pictured a squadron of them flying overhead and swallowed, beads of sweat pricking up on his forehead. No way in hell was he going back outside.

The staircase creaked and his shoes squelched as he made his way upstairs. He hesitated on the landing, knowing that Finn's door was a few steps away, but not really sure what to do with that information. But eventually he wound up on the welcome mat with his key turning in the lock. He heard a click and twisted the doorknob, stepping inside the way a kid steps into a library.

Maz had made it her business to come up here and give the place a sweep and dust every other week, so it was pretty clean, cleaner than when Finn had been in charge of the housework, at any rate. Trying his best to ignore the deafening silence of the room Poe turned on the heat and shed his dripping clothes, hanging them up to dry over the hissing radiator. He could still hear the storm, but at least it was muted and muffled from here.

After creeping across the room he curled up on Finn’s bed with an old quilt wrapped around himself, staring at the shadow of raindrops on the opposite wall, the shelves stacked with jars of paint and pencils, the battered armchair in the corner, all waiting patiently for Finn's return. God knows how much time the two of them had spent here, talking, sleeping, touching, slowly weaving their way into each other's hearts until they were hopelessly tangled. But it had been better that way. Poe hadn't realised how much he had come to rely on that tether, that certainty that somewhere out there somebody was always in his corner, no matter the fight.

That's what he needed right about now, a nudge, a reminder that he wasn't by himself. Not knowing what else to do he pulled a sketchbook out of the bedside table and flipped through the pages. He missed watching Finn draw, the sure way he put pen to paper, making something that would outlast all of them. Time would go by, the moment would pass, but the drawings would always be here, even if Finn wasn't. The last two pages were blank so Poe figured he may as well start another letter, get at least something done today. He took a pen out of the cup on the nightstand and began to write, no clear direction in mind, but figuring the words would come to him when he needed them.

_Dear Finn,_

_What's going on, buddy? Have you forgotten our address or something? I'm just kidding, but I just wanted to say..._

Poe hesitated, pen hovering over the paper. What did he want to say? He didn't want to say anything, now that he thought about it. What he wanted was much simpler. Finn, that's all. He wanted his husband back. Poe set the sketchbook aside and took a shaky breath, curling up tighter under the covers. Lightning crashed outside and he shuddered with it as tears burnt in his eyes. No, wait, he did have something to say to the empty space beside him, to the hole gaping inside of his chest.

"Come home." he pleaded, his voice muffled in Finn's pillow. "Please come home." 

 

\- ————————— -

 

Poe leant back against the sickly green wall and let out a low, careful breath, listening to Kes’ wheezing gasps in the room behind him. "You'd be a great help right now, Finn." he told the light flickering in the ceiling. Kes wasn't that old, barely pushing seventy-eight, but here they were anyways. They'd had him rushed to hospital two days ago, after he'd had a stroke at the hangar. If he had been at home, he'd already be dead. To be honest, Poe wasn't really sure what he was doing here. Since he'd come home he and Kes hadn't spoken, had barely even been in the same room together. There hadn't been any leeway in their last conversation, after all. Poe had practically been disowned.

"Papá?" Poe blinked and looked down at Bebe, who was tugging at his sleeve, looking grim. “Abuelo wants to see you.” Poe sighed and straightened up, running a hand through Bebe's curls as she ran off to where Han and Leia were waiting. Han and Kes had fought together in the first war, and the families had stayed close since, raising Poe and Ben practically as brothers. Poe hesitated in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot. He wasn't looking forwards to listening to Kes call him a faggot and say he was going to hell, but it would be impolite to deny a dying man that satisfaction.

When Poe stepped into the room Kes opened his eyes slowly and struggled upright, a trembling smile on his lips. “Poe!” he rasped. Poe winced at how paper thin his father’s voice had become, how haggard his face and pale his eyes. “Sit down, my boy. We’ve much to talk about, and I haven’t enough time.”

Poe obliged, pulling up the chair that Bebe had left at Kes' bedside, waiting for him to catch his breath. Well, he hadn't been expecting this. "Hey, Dad. Bebe said you wanted to see me."

"Yes, we've much to talk about. But first, I hope you can find it in you to forgive a stupid old man for his backwards ways. These last years, I haven’t been the father I should have been. I haven’t…” He shook his head and settled back against his pillow with a cough. Poe blinked, thrown off by what he was hearing. “I promised Shara, you know, before she left us. Ah, she knew her time was coming, that woman. And she had the good sense to hush up and take it.”  Kes chuckled and gestured vaguely around himself, the beeping metal machines and washed-out paintings that lent no warmth to the room. “Because here? There is no sense in dying here. No, your Mamá was too smart for that. We were visiting your Abuelo, you remember? The doctors had said to keep her inside, let her go quietly. But your Mamá, your Mamá would not listen. She was out and about until the last moment, the very last.” Kes sighed, closing his eyes. “Out in the garden, under the tree. That’s where I found her. You know the spot.”

Poe did know. For as long as he remembered a tree had stood at the foot of the garden, perpetually green leaves nodding in the breeze, wide wooden swing rocking under the protective arch of its branches. He knew this story, too. The sun was setting, the wind was fair. Kes had walked out into the garden, laughing and calling Shara’s name. When he saw her laying there he quieted and covered her with his jacket, thinking that she had fallen asleep. He was right, in a sense. 

“Some may say is bad luck to live there, in the house where my wife died. Ghosts and all. But I know Shara better. She’s too lively to hang around, breathing or no. I like to think she enjoys being an angel.” Kes reflected. “Wings of her very own. Now what was I talking about?” Poe blinked and rubbed the back of his neck, snapping out of the imagined memory.

“You promised Mom something.” he prompted. Kes nodded, but his eyes were drooping and his head lay heavy on the pillow. The man looked like a corpse already and Poe's heart seized up in his chest. This wasn't fair. Not his dad, not now that he'd gotten him back, this just wasn't fair. "Dad, I'm sorry..."

"You're sorry? But you have nothing to be sorry for, _mijo_. I still don't quite understand, but..." Suddenly Kes' body seized up in a hacking cough, bending his body double as his lungs struggled and fought. When he sprawled back on the mattress, wheezing, Kes closed his eyes and shook his head, resigned as only a dying old man can be. "So little time. Ah, well.  Even if I don't tell you I wrote it all down somewhere. For now, let an old man rest, _mijo_. Let an old man rest. And when your time comes, have the good sense to be outside.”

 

\- ————————— -

 

Kes died within the week. He went quietly in the night, soul slipping out through the open window of his hospital room, carried off into the sky by the north wind, swooping and diving over the streets with the grace of a dove, helped along by an angel with sparking eyes and curling hair.

A few days later Poe shuffled through the house that was now his, left to him in Kes' will, along with everything else. The place was in good shape. He could move out here when he retired, or maybe leave it to Bebe. Yeah, that’s what he’d do. She should have it. He’d rather grow old in their cramped little Brooklyn apartment, the familiar rooms he could forget everything in. Bebe would raise a family here, watch children grow and flowers blossom, live whatever life she wanted. Meanwhile, he’d be sitting in his chair by the window, watching the cars and buses below, waiting for Finn to emerge from one of them and come clambering up the fire escape. It didn't matter to him how long he had to wait. Poe just had to know the ending, had to finish the story.

Every love story has a proper structure, a beginning, middle, and end. Take, for example, the case of Kes and Shara. They had met, fallen in love, married, had Poe, and then Shara died, followed by Kes several decades later. Their story had a conclusion, an epilogue. You closed the book and were satisfied with where things stood. You were sad, yes, but you were resigned, too. As things were, that is how they would remain. He and Finn didn’t have that. Nothing about their life together was certain, nothing of theirs was safe. Their story may have ended already, and Poe had no way of knowing.

Poe pushed the thought away and ran his hands over the books on the shelf in the living room, their leather spines creased and stained. Shara had loved reading, and even if Kes didn't he'd sometimes come home with a pillowcase full of second-hand books for her, more books than you could read in a lifetime, but Shara had managed to cram a good number in.

Poe perused the shelves, looking for one particularly battered volume. Kes had said he'd written a letter, and Poe was pretty sure he knew where it was stashed. Kes was funny that way, storing important documents like you would your common bookmark. Poe pulled out the old bible and flipped through the pages, finding his birth certificate, Shara's death certificate and pilot's licence, his parents marriage certificate, and finally a sealed envelope with his name scribbled in the top righthand corner.  He sat down on the couch and turned on the lamp, pulling out the letter. Translated, it ran something like this:

_Poe, _

_ We all know I'm bad with words, but what I have to say is simple enough that even I can muddle my way through it._

_ Sin is a very broad term. People have spent centuries arguing about it. What causes it, what defines it, what draws us to it. I personally say that a sin is anything that hurts another person unjustly, as that is the only way a simple soldier like me could understand it. _

_ Unfortunately, sometimes even our best intentions can get muddled up in prejudice. When I found out about your situation I reacted with fear and disgust. Rather than trying to understand your point of view I simply sided with what I knew, which is that what you were doing was the unholiest of sins, the cataclysm of human fault. It was easier to believe that than to confront reality. But when I finally did consider it, I came to some rather interesting, yet completely obvious, conclusions. _

_ Like I said before, I believe sin means hurting another person unjustly. So I considered all I had seen, and thought, who is being hurt here? Not my son, who is happier now than I have ever seen him, not Bebe, who is the best and brightest child and who I am honoured to call my granddaughter, and not the man I saw you with, who looked at you like he could see Heaven in your eyes. _

_There's not much more to say, so I suppose I'll end with the conclusions my dull mind has managed to draw on the matter. Firstly, I cannot hate my son for having the courage to be true to himself, and secondly, I cannot hate the man who brought the light back into your eyes. All I can ask of you now is to live and love well, care for my granddaughter, do the right thing, and for God's sake don't do anything stupid._

_Love, Dad_

 

\- ————————— -

 

As it turns out, Finn didn't have to be around to mess with Poe's perception of time.

Where it had once jumped, sprang, and whirled, now time stood still, holding Poe back, chaining him to the last moment he'd seen Finn, the last time life had made any real sense. Nothing happened, yet everything went by in a flash. First it was days, then months, then a year had passed. No word came, and after awhile Poe stopped writing letters, shoving his stockpile of envelopes waiting to be sent into a hatbox and hiding them under his bed. He watched helplessly as his family shrank down to him and Bebe again, just him and a child against the big scary world.

But he had to say, watching Bebe growing up was one of the joys he still had left. At twelve she wasn't so much blossoming as bursting, with life and energy and an unmatchable optimism about life in general. To her, the cup wasn't half full, just waiting to be filled. Poe marvelled at how the kid who had lost so much could still have a fearless zeal for whatever came next, good or bad. It was that hope in her, he figured, that was what made her different.  

But she was still a child, and she had still lost her Mamá.

One night Poe was sitting in bed, reading by lamplight. The open window let in the cool September breeze, ruffling against the curtains and flicking the pages of his book. The door creaked open and Poe looked up, Finn's name ready on his lips, but it was just Bebe, standing in her pyjamas with her teddy bear tucked under her arm. "Papá?" she ventured, voice thick with sleep.

"Why're you up, Bebe? It's the middle of the night." Poe glanced at the clock and looked back at Bebe, who was fiddling with her teddy bear's ear and shifting from foot to foot, scratching the back of her leg with her toe. 

"I had a nightmare." she admitted. Poe sighed and flipped back the covers, smoothing a hand over her head when she crawled in beside him. At twelve she was probably getting too big for this, but it would be cold-hearted to throw the kid out. Once she was all settled she turned to Poe, squinting in the light. "Papá? When's Finn coming back?" 

"Soon, Bebe. He'll be home soon." he answered automatically. Bebe squeezed her teddy bear tighter, looking up at Poe with her face all scrunched up.

"Papá?"

"Yes."

"Why're you lying?" Poe bit his lip and closed his book, resting back against the headboard with a sigh. So he'd been found out. Big surprise there. When he didn't answer Bebe sat up and buried her face in his chest, taking a shaky breath as what his silence meant sank in. She'd known for awhile, deep down, but the difference between distinct possibility and decided fact was like night and day. "He's not coming back?" she asked. Poe shrugged, squeezing his eyes shut to avoid Bebe's gaze.

"I don't know, Bebe. I wish I did, but..." He gathered Bebe up in his arms and held on tight, smoothing his thumb down her cheek while she sobbed into his neck, wet, heaving gasps that he felt deep in his chest, squeezing his heart until he was sure it would burst. "It'll be alright, Bebe. We'll be alright."

"I want Finn back. I don't want another Mamá." 

"I know, _cariño_. I want him to come home, too." Poe blinked down at Bebe, thinking about what she'd just said. "Why would you think you'd have another Mamá?"

"I mean, what if..." Bebe took a deep breath, fingers bunched up in Poe's shirt. "What if you meet somebody else? What if you fall in love with somebody else while Finn's gone, and he comes back and you don't love him anymore?"

"Bebe, I promise, that will never happen. Besides, I'm all outta love to give. You and Finn have a monopoly on the market." Bebe smiled a little and Poe kissed her on the forehead. "Get some rest, got that? You've got school tomorrow."

"Okay." Poe went back to his book, then Bebe poked him in the ribs and he glanced down at her again. "Papá?"

Poe just ruffled her hair and started singing, a lullaby that had been drifting around in his mind since childhood. He'd never gotten the words straightened out, but the tune was simple and the cadence soothing, like a mother rocking a baby's basket with her foot, which is probably where Poe had heard it first, actually. 

Eventually they fell asleep, Bebe with her face snuggled to her father's chest, Poe with his arms wrapped around his daughter. Both of their cheeks were streaked with tears, both of their chests tight with grief. And both of them were waiting for Finn to come back, even if it meant waiting for the rest of their lives.

 

\- ————————— -

 

"Pass me that screwdriver, would you?" Poe asked Jess, who was sitting on the wing of the jet he was working on. She tossed it to him and he grinned, sticking his head back in the engine. The door banged open and Rey strolled into the hangar, whistling a riff and grinning brighter than she had in what Jess thought was a long time. She climbed up beside Jess and started to twist her long black hair in her fingers, humming under her breath. Jess knew her girlfriend well enough to tell that she was up to something. 

"So what's the scoop?" she asked. Rey just yanked Jess by the hair and shushed her, a giggle bubbling in her voice.

"Patience." she chided, kissing the jagged scar on Jess' neck. Jess raised her eyebrows, trying to prompt Rey into an explanation, but Rey would say no more. Instead she just plucked Jess' apple out of her hand and took a bite, craning her neck to smirk at Poe, who was half buried in the engine. "Hey, Poe."

"Hiya. D'you know where those new pistons are?"

"I dunno." She turned back to the door with a mischievous smile on her face. "Hey, Finn, d'you know where the new pistons are?" she called out. When he heard that Poe straightened up so fast he banged his head on the engine cover. Cussing, he spun around, screwdriver clattering out of his hand when he saw who was waiting for him at the other end of the hangar, smiling and leaning on a metal crutch.

“Oh, no...” Poe managed. He slid off of the ladder and hit the ground running, arms outstretched, reaching, straining, dying to have Finn in his arms, skin on his skin, lips on lips. Finn seemed to be just as excited, limping towards him as fast as he could manage with his crutch. They collided midair, each trying to leap into the arms of the other. Poe’s fingers scrabbled at Finn’s neck and shoulders and back, not daring to believe that he was here, whole, _alive_. It must be a dream. A welcome one, sure, but Poe didn’t want to have his heart broken again when this too faded away.

Then Finn was grabbing the back of Poe’s head and kissing him. He made a soft noise in the back of his throat and gave in without further protest. Okay, this was definitely real. He might not have been able to trust his own eyes and ears and hands, but his lips? Those were reliable. He wrapped his arms around Finn’s neck and let himself be rocked back and forth, Finn’s hands snug on his waist. Wait, hadn’t he lost one of them? Not important right know. He could ask about that later.

When they pulled away Poe laughed and readjusted Finn's glasses before closing his eyes, burying his tear streaked face in Finn’s collar as Finn babbled and peppered the top of his head with apologetic kisses. “I’m home. I’m sorry it took so long, but I’m home now. I’m home, I’m home…”

In a rare display of discretion, Rey dragged Jess out of the hangar and left the two of them alone.

\- ————————— -

 

"So," Poe began, tracing the pink scar slashing across Finn's back. 

"So?" Finn opened his better eye and grinned up at his husband, squinting a bit in the moonlight washing over their bed. They'd barely spoken in the past two hours, communicating with glances and touches more than anything else. As much as Poe wanted to hear Finn laugh, listen to him speak, he felt uncommonly cautious, because maybe this was all a dream, and if he wasn't careful it would all be blown away. As though he could sense his apprehension Finn sat up slowly and kissed Poe on the cheek, running his new hand over Poe's chest as he did. Poe leant curiously into the touch, but the inexpressive metal wasn't able to convey everything flesh and blood did.

"Don't you want to take that off?" he asked, nodding at the prosthetic. "The straps don't look comfortable." It was held in place by leather straps and clips, and Poe could already see the indentations on Finn's shoulders and chest where the leather chafed his skin.

"Alright, but I usually keep it on." Finn admitted as Poe fiddled with the buckles and straps. When Poe had worked out how to undo the network of belts Finn sighed and shrugged off the harness, looking down at his stub of an arm with a scowl. "Makes me feel useless." he mumbled as Poe smoothed a hand down from his shoulder. Finn watched apprehensively as he kissed the stump, skimming his lips over the uneven scar tissue with gentle curiosity. "The prosthetic's good enough that I can stay on the force, so that's nice. Couldn't handcuff a guy if I had a hook..."

"It looks like Luke's. Where'd you get it?" Poe asked, weighing the limb in his hands.

"Luke, actually. He offered to help get me back on my feet when I got outta hospital in November. Training, rehab, stuff like that, got me out of a wheelchair, got me used to this arm..."

"Is that why you didn't write?" Poe asked, doing the math in his head. So Finn had gotten out last November, now it was mid January. He's been out for over a year, but he'd never said anything, never thought of writing or calling or...

"I didn't want to come back and be nothing but dead weight." Finn shrugged, as though that explained everything. Poe felt the heat rising in his cheeks, so he closed his eyes and took a breath.

"Say again?" he managed, fingers digging into the sheets as he tried to ground himself.

"Just, y'know, didn't think you'd want to deal with my shambling, blind, armless ass. Honestly, when I first got out of hospital I looked like a zombie..." Poe turned away and Finn blinked, reaching out to him only for Poe to recoil from the touch. "Poe?"

"I waited." Poe said quietly. "One year, three months, and eight days, I waited for you. And you could've been here, with me, that whole time." He shook his head, pressing his knuckles over his mouth to hold back what felt like a sob. "I needed you here, Finn. We were supposed to pull each other back together, right? That's worked for us before, hasn't it? Why did you have to do this by yourself? I couldn't do anything for you. It's like you had disappeared. It's like I'd lost you."

Finn traced his stump tentatively down Poe's back, the numbness of the deadened nerves making for a strange disconnect. He bit his lip and rested his forehead on Poe's shoulder, hurt but not surprised when Poe sagged unhappily underneath him. "I'm sorry." he mumbled. "I'm sorry I wasn't brave enough. I'm sorry I ran away. I'm sorry..."

"What am I supposed to do with sorry? You left your family behind without looking back. Who's to say you won't do it again?" Poe wondered. Finn didn't answer right away and Poe laughed. "Yeah. Another war rolls along and you'll be out the door the day the papers run the story, won't you?" Finn bit his lip and sat up, watching Poe's back rise and fall with each tired breath. When he spoke again his voice was soft and maybe a little bit scared.

"Poe, please listen." When he didn't respond Finn closed his eyes and took a deep breath before trying again. "Poe, I didn't want to hurt you, never that. I wanted to keep you safe. And yeah, okay, I was also a fucking coward who was too scared of you not wanting me anymore. That played a pretty big part in all this, but I didn't want to come back and disappoint you." Finn blinked tears out of his eyes, but not fast enough for Poe to not notice when he turned back around. Finn closed his eyes, not knowing what to expect, and when he felt a kiss pressed to the scars surrounding his left eye he sobbed in relief. After pulling away Poe cupped Finn's face in his hands and sighed, letting his forehead thud against Finn's.

"I want you to listen to me, alright? Just this once I want you to listen to me." Finn nodded and Poe kissed the tip of his nose, pulling him close and laying down with him curled up on his chest. "I will always want you, Finn. Don't you dare think that I'd ever turn you away. Blind, scarred, paralyzed, whatever it is, I don't care. You'll always have a home here. You'll always be mine, and I'll always be yours. I thought you knew that."

Finn nodded, nuzzling against Poe's chest apologetically. "I know, but I guess I panicked." He propped his chin up on Poe's collarbone and smiled at him. "Hey, Poe?"

"Yeah?" 

"Does your offer to move in still stand?" he asked. Without a word Poe shifted and flipped the two of them over, lacing his fingers behind Finn's head and pulling him into a deep, slow kiss. Finn closed his eyes and pushed up against Poe with a pleased whine. He was pretty sure this meant yes.

 

\- ————————— -

 

"Hi, Bebe. How was school?" Poe called from the bedroom. Bebe kicked the door shut with her muddy boots, stomping on the mat to try and clean them off, but to no avail. A car had driven past her on her way home and splashed her with none-too clean gutter water. Just the perfect way to end the day, really.  

"Okay." she grumbled. She dumped her bag on the floor and yanked off her galoshes, scowling. Teacher had made them do a math test, and she'd been docked a bunch of marks because apparently, she hadn't shown any work. She had approached Teacher about it, but he had just told her that there was a right and wrong way of doing things, and it was his job to teach her the right way, even though math was real easy and his way of doing things was dumb. 

She probably shouldn't have said that to his face, though. That, coupled with an altercation in the playground that had ended with her favourite hairbow being torn to shreds, meant the day left a rather unpleasant taste in her mouth. Although giving that nasty Jimmy Dent a black eye had been pretty satisfying.

Bebe laughed at the memory and scooped up Braque, who had been milling around her ankles, probably wanting food. She obliged and walked to the kitchen with the cat in her arms, swinging her back and forth and humming. Then she turned the corner and paused, the cat jumping to freedom as Bebe's arms dropped to her sides.

She was staring at a man's back, hunched over the sink and whistling as he did the dishes. Bebe crept closer and rested her arms on the back of a chair, slowly connecting the broad shoulders, the scarred knuckles, the close-cropped curls, to a name, a face, one she'd resigned herself to never seeing again, or at least not seeing for a long, long time.

"Finn?" she said timidly, hardly daring to hope. Then the water shut off and he turned around, an easy grin on his face. Bebe clutched the chair tighter and held her breath as Finn walked up to her and kissed the top of her head, wiping his hands with a dishcloth.

"Hi, kiddo. Remember me?" he teased, crouching down and rubbing her cheek. She didn't answer since her brain was still scrambled, bits and pieces of thought running into each other like the bumper cars at the fair. She blinked at him for a little bit, still working to understand, then everything clicked back into place and her eyes widened and her heart felt like it would burst in her chest.

"Finn!" Without missing a beat she leapt forwards into Finn's arms, bursting into tears when he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest, leaning on the table for support. "You came back..."

"'Course I did. I wasn't about to leave you guys all by yourselves. What kind of a parent would that make me?" he asked, rubbing her back as she sobbed into his neck. "I'm sorry it took so long, Bebe. I'll never leave for that long again, for sure this time." Finn closed his eyes, nestling his face in the crook of Bebe's shoulders as his own tears began to drip down his cheeks. "I love you, Bebe. I'll always be here for you." he promised, feeling her nod against his neck. 

Neither of them noticed, but Poe had snuck up on the scene, leaning up against the doorframe with a smile on his face, watching his little family be put back together again. He let out an exhausted sigh and tilted his head back, closing his eyes. Finally, after far too long, they were home.

 

\-----------------

 

"Papá, it's a cap of milk, not a cup!" Bebe yelped. She snatched the measuring cup out of Poe's hands and shoved him away from the counter, raising a little puff of flour as she did. "Lemme do it."

"Easy there, firecracker..." Poe raised his hands in surrender and rested them behind his head, laughing as he backed out of the spacious kitchen. "Call me if you need help." Bebe snorted in response and Poe laughed, making his way down the sun-soaked halls and out into the garden of their farmhouse, whistling. They'd taken to spending their weekends out here, keeping the maintenance up, weeding and watering the plants that had been growing here since Poe was a kid. Finn loved it outside, spending most daylight hours tending to the plants. Last Poe had seen him he was bent over in the cucumber patch, digging the weeds out and trimming the dead growth.

When Poe hopped off the porch he saw Finn sitting on the tree swing, shadows playing on his sleeping face. Smiling, Poe strolled across the garden and stretched out on the grass at Finn's feet, rocking the swing back and forth with his foot until Finn blinked himself awake and rubbed his eyes, squinting in the sunlight. 

"Hi." Finn laughed, grinning down at Poe. He'd taken off his prosthetic and set it down at the foot of the tree, hand facing up, so it looked a bit like the poster for some strange horror movie about zombie robots, which was a pretty terrifying concept, actually. Poe snorted and turned back to Finn, who was looking around with a new look on his face, something that looked almost like awe.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Poe prodded.

"I just..." Finn leant against the frayed rope and shook his head, taking in the scenery. It was quite the sight, especially for Finn, the quintessential city kid. "All of this?"

"Yup. We can move out here whenever we like. There’s the garden and an old barn and an orchard and a chicken coop…” Poe smiled up at Finn, shading his eyes with his hand. “It’s ours now, yours and mine.” 

“Ours.” Finn agreed. After staring at Poe for a minute he eased off of the swing and crawled on top of him, flopping down with a satisfied huff. Poe held Finn close to his chest and let him nuzzle his neck, kissing and nipping his way upwards until they were nose to nose, lips not too far from touching. 

Despite their comfortable isolation, the negative space separating them from the rest of the world, Poe couldn't help but tense up, waiting for windows to be thrown open, insults to be spit, rocks to be hurled. Finn didn't seem to be at all worried, though. Smiling, he ran his calloused thumb over the scar on Poe’s cheek until Poe relaxed into the feeling, letting the familiarity of it all ease out his fear. Then Finn leaned in, eyelashes tickling Poe's cheek, heartbeat tripping to a giddy rhythm. “Yours and mine.”

He kissed him. In broad daylight, sun warm on their shoulders, tree rustling in the wind, he kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter took so long and my schedule's pretty wacky, but it's up now so now i can go take a nap


	11. Greenwood, 2004

“You good, Pops?” Ben asked, his brow creased up with worry. Finn huffed out a laugh and nodded at his grandson, named for a man they’d lost in a war fought a few decades back. He had insisted on driving Finn to the graveyard, despite Finn's assurances that he could manage well enough with his own two legs. But Ben had his mother's stubbornness, so here they were, sitting in his minivan in the parking lot by the wrought iron gate. Apparently, getting forcibly chauffeured was one of the benefits of being a senior citizen.

“I’m old, but I’m not in a wheelchair. You two wait here. I’ll be fine.” Finn insisted as he slowly eased himself out of the car, opening the back door to collect his cane out of the backseat. "But you don't have to stay, you know. I can take the bus home."

“The doctor said…” Before Ben could protest further he heard a yawn behind him and turned around with a sigh. "Hey, what are you doing up? It’s nap time, sweetheart.” The roly-poly toddler sitting in the backseat scrunched up her eyes and stuck her bottom lip out in a pout. Baby Bebe, as she was known by family and friends, was the spitting image of her grandmother as a child. Dark curls, twinkling eyes, the works. She had also inherited the incorrigible Dameron obstinance. Seemed to be a dominant trait, that.

“No! Wanna go walk with Pop-pop!” she declared, squirming against her seatbelt and grabbing for Finn. Ben hushed her but Finn just chuckled and picked up the cane that was sitting beside her, tickling her satiny cheek with the end of his scarf as he did.

“You want to go with Pop-pop, Beatrice?” he asked. His newest great-grandchild nodded with unabashed enthusiasm, her messy curls wagging under her tuque. How Finn hated saying no to that face, but it had to be done. “It’s too cold out, precious. In the springtime we can go for as many walks as  you like, alright? I promise.” Unimpressed, Beatrice just pouted and crossed her chubby arms under her blanket, but her eyes were fluttering shut despite herself. Finn smiled and tugged gently at her hair before glancing back at Ben. “She’ll be grown before you know it.” he promised, taking up his cane.

“So I’ve heard,” Ben pulled out a book and grinned at Finn, who was working his way up a narrow stone path with slow, deliberate steps. “Take your time, Pops.”

“Will do.” 

At his age, could he do otherwise? Finn trudged up the hill, grumbling about his arthritic knees and the December wind cutting through him like he was made of paper. Getting old was never something he had planned on doing, and sometimes he cursed his younger self for not having the foresight to die in some spectacular way with his youth and beauty still intact. It was a relief stepping onto the veterans plot, letting his feet sink into the well-tended grass as he made his way over to the gravestone in the corner of the lot, a pretty spot beside a wooden bench and big old oak tree.

Looking at the grave Finn relaxed a bit, a soft smile twitching on his lips. The cluster of Forget-Me-Nots he’d left there a few days before had begun to wilt and he switched them out with the flowers he’d bought this morning. Lilies and baby’s breath and roses and hyacinth, a bridal bouquet wrapped up in a white satin bow. It all made for a rather striking arrangement. Finn was quite pleased with it. He settled down on the bench opposite the grave and closed his eyes, taking a moment to catch his breath. A lily bobbed in the wind, but all else was still, including the eighty-one year old man sitting in front of his husband’s gravestone.

After what felt like a suitable pause Finn stretched and sat up, smiling at the grave with a decades old light sparkling in his eyes. “Happy anniversary, Poe. This makes fifty-eight. Diamond's in two years.” Did you keep celebrating wedding anniversaries after death did the parting? Finn had never bothered to check. He sighed and squinted at the blue sky, shielding his eyes from the sun. It was one of those false-spring days, when the sun shone pale and the brown grass shivered in the cold. Finn wasn’t a fan, but Poe loved days like this. The man had always judged the weather by how well one could have flown in it, after all. Whenever Finn looked out the window Poe’s words resurfaced in his mind, the little remarks he’d make as they stepped out the door or saw the weatherman on the television. 

_If there’s a breeze, that’s good. Not so much so that the ride gets bumpy, but just enough that your face goes a little numb after awhile. The sun’s good like this, too. The glare isn’t what it is during the summer and it’s not as high as it is during the spring. Smooth sailing all around._

“We would’ve made it ‘till then, right?” Finn wondered, head still tilted back and eyes fixed on the bare-limbed oak above him. His hand wandered to the thin chain around his neck, weighed down by a polished silver ring that matched the one he was wearing. “Almost sixty years, and somehow we didn’t manage to get sick of each other. No wonder people make such big deals out of these things. Speaking of which…”

Finn pulled a neatly folded newspaper clipping out of his pocket and smoothed it out, tracing the shiny fingers of his right hand over the headline, the words printed out for all to see.

_Senate Votes: Marriage Amendment Passed in Massachusetts_

“Thought you might find that interesting.” he told the gravestone after reading the words aloud, mostly for his own benefit. “Sure, right now it’s just them, but think about who could be next. Cities, states, maybe one day it’ll be the whole country, the whole world.” 

Finn smiled at the picture of a rainbow flag billowing under the headline, the people celebrating around it. “People like us getting married left and right. Imagine that, Poe. I won’t be there to see it happen, but I’m damn sure it will.” After folding the paper back up Finn sniffed and adjusted his specs, telling himself that it was allergies making him well up. “I guess you were right, Poe. People can change. I wish that had happened sooner, but…” Shrugging, Finn pulled out a pad of paper and flipped to an empty page, settling back with a sigh. “Well, we made it anyways, didn’t we?”

After awhile the wind picked up, scattering flurries of dead leaves and the occasional dandelion head. To pass the time Finn sketched idly on the pad of paper he had taken to carrying around in his pocket. He had always been prone to aimlessly doodling on whatever available surface there was and sometimes that led to unfortunate situations. 

Finn cracked a grin, thinking about how one time he’d been talking on the phone and had wound up drawing all over Bebe’s final grade eight project, a model of the solar system, without really registering what he was doing. The whole family had stayed up all night redoing it, teasing and arguing and laughing until the sun was winking at them through the window shades, casting ripples of light and shadow on Bebe’s freckled face as she slept curled up on the couch, Poe passed out in the armchair across from her with the cats sprawled on his stomach. Meanwhile, Finn sat on the floor between them, diligently painting Saturn’s rings with gold sparkles.

They had had a lifetime of little moments like that, both in their Brooklyn apartment and the farmhouse they spent so many holidays and weekends in, before moving out permanently when Finn got promoted to inspector and Bebe went off to university with the promise to write and come back for Christmas. 

Aside from her there were a few staples around their table during the holidays, a few seats that would always be filled. Han and Leia, rest their souls, always turned up on the doorstep, Han still grimy with engine grease, Leia carrying a pie in one hand and a briefcase filled with important paperwork in the other. 

Next there was Rey and Jess. No matter where their globe-trotting had taken them, those two could always be counted on to make an appearance at Christmas, dogs and gifts in tow. The grandchildren and great-grandchildren adored their crazy aunts, their stories about the time Jess nearly tumbled off of Mt. Everest or how Rey’s rope had snapped when they were spelunking in New Zealand. 

The old girls were still at it, wandering across Europe with packs on their backs, calling every once and awhile from payphones and sending the occasional postcard and package. Finn was actually wearing the sweater they’d sent him a couple weeks ago from Norway, which was called a _lusekofte_ , a detail Rey thought she had to include in her letter, apparently. 

The other side of the table was always crowded with a rotating cast of kids, laughing and squirming and refusing to eat their veggies while their parents tried to cajole them into changing their minds. Finn smiled and rested back against the bench with a sigh. Four grandchildren and ten great-grandchildren in counting, with one more on the way any day now. He had always wanted a family, but this was just excessive. Of course, he couldn’t complain, seeing as how his only responsibility as grandfather was to spoil all fourteen of them rotten, to Bebe’s fond disapproval.

With a couple PhDs and a Nobel prize nomination under her belt, you’d think Bebe would be satisfied with retiring. Not so. At sixty-two she was at the head of a department at NASA, and these days spent her time running around the world to board meetings and fundraisers, her husband, a baker by trade, tagging along for the ride.  Suffice to say, their daughter had done pretty damn well for herself. 

The woman Finn had helped raise may stand on her own two feet now, but in the back of his mind there would always be the image of a five year old girl, overalls coming apart at the stitches, snoring softly as he carried her back home through the quiet Brooklyn streets. He liked to think of that as the moment he found out what having a family felt like, and look at them now, here and happy and whole against all conceivable odds. Well, not entirely whole.

“Still isn’t Christmas without you, Poe.” Finn admitted, tucking his pencil back in his pocket. “Doubt it ever will be…” His voice went tight for a moment, but his lips relaxed into a smile when he took a peek at his paper. Years of drawing meant his hands moved with barely any input from his brain, so essentially he drew what he thought before he knew he was thinking it. 

Today that meant a portrait of a young man silhouetted against the sky, curls in disarray, eyes crinkled in a smile and searching the horizon, looking out further than Finn could ever hope to see. He ripped it out of the notepad, fashioning it into a little paper airplane, and on the next updraft he let it slip out of his fingers to be carried off with the wind, swooping and diving, free as the voice of a bird, a nightingale, maybe.

_That certain night, the night we met,_  
_There was magic abroad in the air._  
_There were angels dining at the Ritz,_  
_And a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square..._

 Finn sighed as the lyrics danced through his head. It was the first song Poe had sung for him, the beginning of their end. They’d been young, then. Not yet in love, but getting there.

_The moon that lingered over London town,_  
_Poor puzzled moon he wore a frown._  
_How could he know that we two were so in love?_  
_The whole damned world seemed upside-down…_

They had no way of knowing that it would become their last song too, exhaled with a dying breath on a sunny Thursday afternoon three years ago.

Finn remembered the day Poe’s heart gave out vividly, a splash of red in the soft pastel their life together had become. Poe had been rocking in Finn’s armchair on the balcony with one of their cats in his lap, singing while Finn busied himself with the garden. He caught snatches of Poe’s voice as he worked, still strong for a guy two years from ninety. As Finn passed by on his way to the kitchen he pecked Poe on the top of his silver head, smiling at the chuckle he got for his troubles. It was nice knowing that their last moment had been something like that. When Finn went back outside and saw Poe rocking back and forth on the bench suspended from the tree he had thought he’d fallen asleep, as people his age are wont to do. He was right, in a sense. 

Finn sighed and closed his eyes, the weight of remembering heavy on his shoulders. It wasn't all bad, though. Yes Poe was dead, but echoes of his voice still rang in Finn’s ears, edged his empty days with colour and light. He’d given them a lifetime of song, a home built from verses and rhyme and for that, Finn could never thank him enough.

Above him a bird whistled in the oak tree, its voice mixing in with the wind bringing his paper plane higher, twirling towards the sun. Too old to be self conscious, Finn began to sing too. He was no vocalist, but he could carry a tune well enough. So he sang the song that had gained Poe his trust, the song that had become the first steps of a lifetime.

_The streets of town were paved with stars,_  
_It was such a romantic affair._  
_And as we kissed and said goodnight,_  
_A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square._

"Pop-pop!" a tiny voice squeaked at his knee, jolting him out of his thoughts. Smiling, Finn looked down at Beatrice, who was tugging at the sleeve of his coat and waiting for him to pick her up. 

"What happened to nap time?" he laughed, grabbing her around the waist and setting her down on his lap. She giggled and wrapped his scarf around herself, snuggling against his chest with a tired huff. That hill must have been a doozy on her three-year old legs. Finn tilted his head back to see Ben leaning against another tree, nose still buried in his book. That boy and his books, it was a wonder he'd put one down long enough to meet his wife and conceive a child. Finn smirked and kissed Beatrice on the top of her head. Once she had caught her breath she tapped him on the shoulder and pointed at the gravestone in front of them, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

"My  _Bisabuelo_." she said triumphantly, after a moment of thought. Finn laughed and adjusted her cap, tugging it down over her ears. 

"That's right, Beatrice." She smiled at him, but it turned into a frown just as quickly. "What's wrong, kiddo?"

"Mommy, she said _Bisabuelo_ , she said he..." Another pause, then her words straightened themselves out again. "He's not here no more."

"No, he's up in Heaven with the angels." Beatrice's eyes widened as what Finn's words meant sank in.

"But then, then you're by yourself. Don't you miss him, Pop-pop? I miss Mommy and Daddy at daycare." she pointed out. Holding back a laugh, Finn poked Beatrice in the cheek, trying to wipe the astonished look off of her face. 

"Of course I miss him, but I'm not lonely because I know I'll see him again." he explained. 

"How d'you know you're gonna?"  

"I just know." Finn shrugged and smiled at Beatrice, who had gone back to pouting.

"That's not a good answer." she complained. Finn just laughed and squeezed her tighter.  True as that may be, it was the only answer he had. The same way a newborn knows to cry and migrating birds know which way means home, Finn knew that someday, someway, life would lead him back to Poe, the way it always did.

After a few seconds of peace Beatrice squirmed in his arms, trying to grab his attention. "What were you singing, Pop-pop?  I liked it. It was pretty." she told him. Smiling, Finn cradled her closer, starting up the song where he had left off, drawing out the last verse as he rocked Beatrice back and forth in his arms.

_Our homeward step was just as light as the tap-dancing feet of Astaire,_  
_And like an echo far away,_  
_A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square._  
_I know ‘cause I was there that night in Berkeley Square…_

 It was a comfort knowing that sooner or later, that homeward step would lead them back home, back to each other. Whatever came next, Heaven, resurrection, who knew, one thing was for sure. They would meet again, and when they did, they were never letting go. 

"When're you gonna see _Bisabuelo_  again, Pop-pop?" Beatrice mumbled as she dropped off. Finn opened his mouth, but she was asleep before he could answer. Having nothing else to do he tucked his scarf tighter around her, looping it around her rosy cheeks to guard against the cold. As he was buttoning up her coat the wind picked up again, making the flowers in his bouquet nod and dance. Finn looked at the gravestone, the same old smile reappearing on his face as he rested back against the bench, turning his eyes up towards the fluffy lavender sky.

"Soon, sweetheart." Finn said softly. He closed his eyes and sighed, hugging the sleeping Beatrice to his chest. "I'll see you soon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it. Man, this story took so long. 60 000 words, if you can believe it. That's like a mystery novel. Thanks for reading! I'm gonna go take a nap now.


	12. Maryland, 1972 (bonus)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk man i was cleaning out my computer and discovered an extra chapter hidden in one of my folders so here have it if you want

“Finn?” Poe poked his head into the bedroom and rolled his eyes when he saw Finn sitting cross-legged on the floor, chin resting on top of his neatly folded hands. “C’mon, buddy. If we don’t hurry it up the movers’ll get there before we do…”

“Someone’s in a rush.” Finn laughed as Poe eased himself down with a huff. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Shut up…” Poe sighed. He rested his cheek on Finn’s shoulder and looked around at the bare walls, swept floor, and the radiator hissing snugly in the corner. After a week of housework the whole apartment was scrubbed and empty and waiting, just like it had been when Poe had moved in what, twenty-five, thirty years ago? He sighed into Finn’s shirt and shook his head. “Man, I’m old.”

“I thought we established that a long time ago.” Finn teased. Poe punched him in the arm but that just made Finn laugh harder. “I’m not wrong, y'know. Four more years and you’ll be sixty.”

“And you’ll be fifty in three.” Poe countered sulkily. But even he had to admit that Finn didn’t look his age. You only saw it in the suggestion of wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, the salt and pepper hair just above his ears that he usually shaved away anyways. Poe snorted and crossed his arms over his gut, pouting. It just wasn’t fair, him already being a wrinkled up prune of a pilot while Finn got to age at a snail’s pace.

“C'mon, Poe, you’re being overdramatic…” Finn laughed as though he had read Poe’s thoughts, wrapping an arm around Poe’s shoulders and giving him a quick squeeze. “By the way, and this is a stupid question, but do we really have to leave? ‘Cause I was thinking you could just phone up the buyers and tell them the deal’s off. I’m sure they’ll find somewhere else…”

“Bit late for that, isn’t it? They’re moving in next week.” Poe pointed out, glancing around the bedroom with a sigh. Right now everything smelled like Windex and vinegar, almost institutional, but Poe could remember what it had once been, back in its heyday. There was the empty corner where their bed belonged, the lighter patches on the wall where pictures had been hung up, all these little bits and pieces of their life that they had to leave behind.

It was funny, but even though the place was freezing in the winter, sweltering in summer, and their neighbours raised holy hell on school nights, Poe kinda knew where Finn was coming from, not wanting to go. It wasn’t like when Finn had moved out of his old apartment. He’d left that place behind without a second thought, popping up on Poe’s doorstep with his cat and a couple of cardboard boxes full of art supplies. But here, there was too many memories here. Too many days bursting with laughter and light, too many nights spent in easy embrace.

They had that at the farmhouse, of course, but this was where all of their “firsts” had happened, where all their milestones had been hit. Poe was just about to let himself regret leaving, then the thought occurred to him that there were more firsts to be had, and that so long as Finn was around there always would be. With that in mind Poe shook his head and pat Finn apologetically on the shoulder. “Sorry buddy, no can do. I’m booting you out,”

“Asshole…” Finn laughed.

“Language.” Poe scolded. “Geez, I knew Bebe got her mouth from somewhere. You were a bad influence.”

“Bad? Our little girl just clawed her way into MIT. I say that makes her a success.”

“Touché…” Poe rolled his eyes as he fumbled for Finn’s hand, nuzzling his face into the cozy spot under Finn’s chin. “I’m gonna miss this place.”

“Me too. Hey, remember the first time I came here?”

“I try to forget. You really threw me a curveball, y’know that, right? Everything was fine ‘till you came along…”

“Fucking up your plans is what I do best.” Finn laughed. He tipped Poe’s face up and gave him a curt kiss. “And I intend to keep doing that for a very long time. You’re not getting rid of me any time soon, old man.” he promised, his breath tickling Poe’s ear.

“Good thing I don’t plan on letting you go, _amor_.” Finn made to stand but Poe pulled him back down. “One more for the road?”

“I can’t say no to you.” Finn decided as he pulled Poe close, grinning a bit before leaning in for a kiss. The taste was familiar and the motion practiced, but for all that so incredible and precious. Not for the first time Poe thanked his lucky stars that someone upstairs had seen fit to leave him and Finn alone, let their love story play out with only minor interruptions. When Finn pulled away Poe was left with a funny, hollow feeling in his chest, but Finn wouldn’t let it stick around. “C’mon, traffic’s gonna be a nightmare, and you’re not walking all the way there.”

“Try me.”

“Stand up by yourself, then we’ll talk.” Finn laughed, rolling nimbly to his feet.

“You son of a bitch…“ Poe sighed as he tried to heave himself up. Somewhat apologetic, Finn laughed and grabbed Poe’s wrists, tugging him up so they were face to face.

“Alright, alright. No need for theatrics.” Finn adjusted Poe’s collar and grinned at him. “Love you.” he said sheepishly. Poe laughed, nudging Finn’s glasses back into place and kissing him on the cheek.

“I love you too.” he whispered in Finn’s ear. Forever and always, but some things go without saying.

 

\----------

 

It turns out Poe had been right in figuring that moving out wasn’t the end for them. The years in the farmhouse went by sweet and smooth, every ending sure to be followed by the start of something else. Speaking of new beginnings, Bebe proved to be full of them.

One of those firsts was her insisting that Christmas would be at her place this year, and she wouldn’t take no for an answer. After a couple months of back and forth Finn and Poe relented, although they insisted on paying half for the plane tickets.

The second they stepped inside the house Poe was waylaid by Bebe’s husband, who on instruction from Bebe was to teach Poe how to make an apple pie. Finn decided he’d leave them to it, figuring that Aaron would figure out soon enough that it was a fruitless task he was set to.

Aaron and his sister had been working at their parent’s bakery near the MIT campus while Bebe was grinding out her thesis. That kid’s sweet tooth being what it was, she wound up spending quite a bit of time in Aaron’s company. One thing had led to another, and now she, Aaron, and two babies were comfortably installed in a cozy Maryland bungalow, not too far from the research centre where Bebe worked. What she did, Finn wasn’t sure. All he knew was that it was actual rocket science and trying to make head or tail of it would give him a headache.

When Finn wandered into the living room he found some of Aaron’s nephews crowded around the Christmas tree, staring longingly at the brightly wrapped packages topped with shiny satin bows. But when Finn walked in they abandoned their posts and hopped up to greet him with hopeful grins. They had learnt after a couple visits that Finn could be counted on to always have a handful of change in one pocket and a bag of candy in the other, waiting to be dropped into their eager hands.

Finn hadn’t expected this, but Aaron’s family, they didn’t mind him. He may go as far as to say that they were actually fond of him. Especially the little ones, who were easily entertained by war stories and sweets. After the favours had been distributed one of the kids tugged at Finn’s sleeve, eyes bright with curiosity.

"Mr. Finn? Why’s your hand made of metal?“

"Hmm..” Finn shrugged and waggled the fingers of his right hand, to the rapt fascination of his little audience. He had forgotten his gloves, so his prosthetic was on full display, glittering in the lights covering the Christmas tree. "I’m part robot.“ he decided.

The kids blinked and looked amongst themselves, trying to decide whether or not they should believe him. Just when they began to inch away from Finn the kitchen door slid open and a brassy voice piped up over the sound of sizzling pans and hissing steam.

"Don’t listen to the crazy old man, kids. Why don’t you all come in here? We just put a cake in the oven and somebody has to lick the bowl." At that the little tykes ran off, tripping over each other in their rush to get to the kitchen. Bebe herded them all inside before turning back to Finn, grinning from ear to ear.

"Crazy old man, am I?” he asked Bebe as she trotted into his arms. She laughed a bit and he gathered her up in a hug, smiling when she nuzzled her face comfortably into his neck. Weekly phone calls aside, they hadn’t seen each other in what, two months? All he knew was that it had been too long. “Hate to know how you said hello to Poe…”

“Maybe I was a little harsh.” she admitted, kissing Finn on the cheek. "Could you and Papá get the babies from upstairs? I’ve got my hands full, here.“

"Can do.” Finn followed her back into the kitchen, where Poe and Aaron were bent over the stove, puzzling over how Poe had managed to burn the pie after putting it in the oven for four minutes. He grabbed Poe by the scruff of his shirt and tugged him out of the kitchen. “C'mon, Poe. We’ve got a job to do.”

“Sorry, Aaron, but I did warn you…” Poe called over his shoulder as he and Finn trundled upstairs. The two of them crept into the nursery and peeked into the cribs, smiling at the roly-poly twins dressed up in matching onesies. Adorable, of course, but it also made for a rather embarrassing problem.

"Hey, sweetheart?“ Poe ventured, nudging Finn’s elbow.

"Hm?”

“Not that I don’t know already, but which one’s which?” Boy, what a great grandfather Poe had turned out to be. Finn probably thought he was an asshole. But he just laughed and kissed Poe on the nose.

“Forgot your crib notes, huh? For future reference, Shara’s got a beauty mark on her left ear, and Kes has only got one dimple, so…” After a second Finn scooped up the smaller baby, who opened its eyes and giggled, revealing a lopsided smile. “Hi there Kes. So you must be Shara.” he decided as he scooped up the other kid and swept her hair back to confirm his theory, which had been right, of course.

“Good job, detective.” Poe watched Finn bounce the babies in his arms, wondering at his easy confidence. Poe always froze up around anything younger than three years old. They’d met their grandkids before, of course, but Bebe or Aaron had always been hovering in the periphery of their vision, armed and ready with a bottle or a doll if God forbid the infants even whimpered. Poe had laughed at their clinginess then, but now he wished for their parental paranoia. They would know what to do. He on the other hand was clueless.

While Poe had been mulling over all that Finn had gotten straight to work, and by the time Poe blinked himself out of his musings the babies had been changed, fed, and now they were dozing off in Finn’s arms while he hummed a lullaby to them. Poe thought he recognized the tune and joined in.

_That certain night, the night we met_  
_There was magic abroad in the air_  
_There were angels dining at the Ritz_  
_And a nightingale sang in Berkeley square..._

“Damn, that song’s quite the throwback. So we really are old…” Finn laughed. One of the babies yawned and perked up, blinking a pair of round black eyes curiously at Finn, who grinned right back. “Hi there, Shara. What’re you doing up?” Shara gurgled and reached up to poke at Finn’s glasses before her eyes fluttered shut again. He smiled and kissed her satiny forehead, glancing back to grin at Poe. “C’mon, flyboy. You can hold one of them at least.” he insisted, rocking the two bundles of blankets back and forth in his arms. Poe shook his head and sank into the rocking chair with a shrug that tried to be unconcerned.

“But they’re small and delicate and I don’t think…” Without letting Poe finish Finn settled the sturdier baby in his arms, stepping back so Poe had no choice but to hold on to her. “Oh, you son of a bitch…”

“Watch your mouth.” Finn chided. Poe’s scowl just deepened and Finn sighed, gentling his voice. “Haven’t you ever held a baby before?”

“Once or twice, I guess.” Poe mumbled. When these two had been born he had held his grandson for about two seconds, and at the baptism somebody had handed him Shara. Those had been the longest twelve seconds of Poe’s life. “I wasn’t there when Bebe was this little, remember? Not all of us had the benefit of raising an orphanage for practice.” Poe shrugged again, nudging the blankets down a bit so he could run his thumb over his granddaughter’s cheek. She whimpered at the touch and Poe bit back a curse, shaking his head. “Oh God, Finn I swear I’m going to drop her or shake her or something.”

“Hey, sweetheart.” Finn crouched in front of Poe and smiled at him. “Remember when Bebe told us she was pregnant? How excited you were?”

“How could I forget?” Poe managed a sheepish laugh at the memory, one Finn got endless joy out of retelling at family gatherings. It had been during their Christmas party the year before. Finn had been in the front room and out of nowhere he’d heard a shriek from the kitchen, followed by a heavy thud. When he jumped up and ran in to investigate he found Poe rolling around on the floor in convulsions of laughter and Bebe leaning against the counter behind him with a huge smile on her face.

Finn was still floundering to understand what was happening, then Poe had rolled over, giving Finn a crazy, ecstatic smile.

“You’re gonna be a grandfather!” he exclaimed, flopping back on the floor with a giggle.

Yeah, and they say dignity comes with age.

“How are you holding him with one hand?” Poe wondered, trying to shake off the memory.

“It’s not that hard. Isn’t that right, Kes?” Finn made a face and the baby he was holding burbled out a giggle. “C'mon, Poe, talk to the kid. She’s not gonna bite.”

“Alright, alright. Take it easy on me.” Poe grumbled, running his thumb over his granddaughter's little lump of a nose. “Hi, Shara.” he said tentatively. When he spoke the baby twisted and grabbed his finger with her tiny hands. Poe made a noise like a startled goose and Finn laughed, pressing a kiss to the grey stubble on Poe’s cheek.

“Calm down, would you? She’s just saying hello. I’ll take her if you really want.” Finn offered, thinking that maybe this was all a little bit overwhelming for the poor man. But after considering it for a minute Poe shook his head and pulled the baby closer to his chest, smiling when she mouthed at his wedding ring before making a face and spitting it out.

“I think I’m getting the hang of it.” Poe decided as he ran a hand through the thick black curls clustered on top of Shara’s head, keeping his touch gentle. Finn watched with a smile as Poe counted her every finger and toe and each miniature fingernail, handling her like a glass orb or baby bird.

“You’re not gonna break her, sweetheart…” Finn laughed. Poe just sighed, venturing so far as to rock Shara back and forth a little bit. Finn bounced Kes up and down in his arms, watching Poe try and pry his finger out of Shara’s grabbing hands. He could spend all day watching this and it was doubtful he’d ever tire of it, of watching something that quite frankly should have been completely impossible.

How had he and Poe wound up in this position? How had a soldier and a pilot with a snowball’s chance in hell dragged themselves into today? After all the pain and heartache that was lurking around every corner, ever twist and turn in the road, here they were in a green and white nursery, cradling grandchildren in their arms while snow flurried outside and the smell of Christmas dinner wafted up the stairs. It was all a bit surreal, actually, almost too good to be true. And for all Finn knew, maybe it was.

Sometimes Finn woke up early, face buried in his pillow, not quite ready to open his eyes, making it easy for groggy, doubtful thoughts to creep into his brain like sunrise through window shades. Maybe when he looked up he’d be back in his shitty apartment in Jefferson Park, cars honking raucously outside and the city smog creeping in through the thin windows. Maybe he’d sit up and there’d be nothing beside him but a cracking plaster wall, or the cat if he was lucky. Maybe when he opened his eyes he’d be all alone again.

Then Poe would roll over with a snort, his nose knocking against Finn’s shoulder and arms securing themselves around Finn’s waist. That’s when the knot in Finn’s stomach would slacken, and his panic would ease out in a slow sigh. He’d snuggle down into Poe’s arms and kiss him on the cheek, relishing the sleepy smile he got for his troubles.

Gone was the age of fire escapes and alleyway kisses, of waking up alone and spending the day in a longing haze, wondering when they’d next see each other again. The two of them were stuck like glue, had been for awhile now, about as married as you can get. It wasn’t over, of course. There was still a little bit of fear in them, always would be. But cautious and wary, they moved through life together, propping each other up when the world got a bit too close for comfort. And if Finn had any say in it, things would stay that way for a long time. He looked back at Poe, grinning, but the expression Poe was wearing gave him pause. Poe caught him looking and shrugged down at Shara.

“I can’t believe I missed this…” he mumbled. “Bebe, I mean. I wasn’t…”

“You’re here now.” Finn pointed out. “That must count for something, right?” Poe shrugged again and Finn smiled at him, running a hand through his salt and pepper hair before turning his attention to the baby in Poe’s arms. “She’s got your ears, sweetheart.” he laughed, pulling at the small scale replicas on the baby’s head. As a smile crept back onto Poe’s face Finn heard the doorbell downstairs, followed by footsteps and laughter and the scrabble of dog’s claws on the hardwood floors. “That’ll be Rey and Jess. They’re gonna love you, kiddo.” he told Kes, who had stirred awake at the commotion. ”C’mon, Gramps. They’re waiting for us.”

“You’re not expecting me to walk with her, are you?” Poe asked incredulously. In response Finn cackled and dashed out of the room, leaving Poe all by himself with the baby still in his arms. “Motherfucker…” he muttered under his breath. Grumbling, Poe looked down at Shara, who was blinking up at him with round, curious eyes. “Oh, sorry. Don’t repeat that. Your mother would kill me…”

Yeah, he had this grandfather thing down pat.

 

\-----------

 

“So what’s it like being a granddaddy?” Rey laughed, nudging Finn with her toe. “Now you know for sure that you’re old.”

The two of them were sitting outside on the porch, taking a brief respite from the soupy heat of the kitchen and the chatter in the living room, still audible from out here. As far as Christmas dinners go, this one had gone by swimmingly. Gifts had been given, the babies had been properly admired, everyone had eaten an unholy amount of food, and now the adults were milling around the kitchen, trying to divvy up the leftovers while the kids played in the living room. Simply put, it was a success.

“It’s not half bad, actually.“ Finn decided, leaning back to grin at Rey. "And you’ll be my age in four years, so you can’t talk.” he pointed out. Rey rolled her eyes and laughed, showing off the sunlight smile that hadn’t dimmed after all this time. "I’m glad you could make it, by the way. We missed you guys at Thanksgiving. Where to next?”

“Not quite sure yet. Madagascar, maybe? Jess has a couple friends there…” Rey and Jess had never really settled down anywhere, opting instead to as Jess put it, live out of their suitcases. Over the past decade or so the two of them had been all over, and as of yet didn’t show any intention of slowing down. They seemed to enjoy it, though, so Finn wasn’t about to ask questions. “You and Poe could tag along too, you know.” Rey added hopefully. “Travelling’s a lot more fun when the military’s not involved.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” Finn shrugged and leaned back in his seat with a sigh. “Y'know, it’s funny, but I never really understood how you and Jess can just pick up and go the way you do. I like my feet on solid ground.”

“It’ll still be there when you get back, y'know. Home’s not gonna disappear on you…" Rey laughed.

"I know that, but I guess…” Finn shrugged, giving up on an explanation. “I don’t know. I’d just get homesick.”

“Attached to what you’ve got, huh? I guess you really did get the life you wanted.” she said absently.

“That’s a loaded statement, isn’t it?” Smiling, Finn stood and leant back against the porch railing, looking at the house. The kitchen window was all lit up with a warm yellow light, illuminating the scene within like a theatre stage. Bebe and Aaron were sitting on the counter and laughing at Poe, who was standing stiff as a soldier in the middle of the room, a baby in each arm. If the look on his face was anything to go by he’d just about had enough of this rigmarole.

Finn waved and Poe stuck his tongue out at him, but the crinkles around his eyes betrayed him. The old man was having the time of his life, smiling the smile that had kept Finn going for the past thirty years, through wars and heartache and the ever-present threat of them being torn apart. Trying to ignore the bubbly feeling in his chest Finn grinned and nodded, running his thumb over the ring glinting on his left hand.

“But for the record, I think you’re right.”


End file.
